


Bunch & Plimpton & Associates

by heartbash



Series: Rebecca and Nathaniel Give Love a Chance [5]
Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: AU where nathaniel isn't a complete buffoon, Angst, Canon Divergent, Car Sex, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Original Character(s), Suck it canon!, Two people just trying their best ok?, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-07-15 00:13:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16051481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartbash/pseuds/heartbash
Summary: Two years after the events ofRebecca and Nathaniel Give Love a Chance, as Rebecca’s thirtieth birthday draws near, Rebecca and Nathaniel work hard to get their fledgling law firm,Bunch & Plimpton & Associates, off the ground, while they struggle to make time for each other. Can they compete againstPlimpton & Plimpton & Whitefeather & Associates? Who did they enlist to join their firm? Did Nathaniel cut off contact with his father? How does Darryl’s new daughter factor into all this? Can Rebecca and Nathaniel have it all?





	1. Statement of Intent

__

_Statement of intent: Noun. 1. (law) A formal statement that the author has a serious intention of doing something under specified conditions, and at a specified time. 2. (informal) An indication of what a person or persons is likely to do in the near future._

In the two years since Nathaniel first proposed the idea of _Bunch & Plimpton_ (or _Plimpton & Plimpton_, depending on who you ask) to a hesitant but optimistic Rebecca, the firm grew from an abstract hypothetical to a fledgling, though steadily growing, operation. Untangling himself from his father’s firm proved to be as complicated as Nathaniel expected, forcing him to fight tooth and nail for every cent owed to him, which further validated his reason for leaving in the first place. The closing meeting between Nathaniel and his father, in the presence of their respective lawyers, naturally, was the last time the two spoke, the court battle serving as the final blow in the lifelong series of betrayals of his trust.

Unfortunately, the legal strife with Nathaniel Plimpton II wasn’t the only stumbling block in their quest to get _Bunch & Plimpton & Associates_ off the ground. A few months later, after Rebecca and Nathaniel jumped through all the hoops to finalize their partnership, scouted a small space for rent, and ordered all new office furniture, Silas Bunch passed away. Just mere days before throwing open the doors for business, Rebecca’s father had a cardiac event in his sleep. His new wife couldn’t wake him up one day. And that was it. A tragedy, without question, for his two other children, Rebecca’s half-siblings, technically, who were still young enough to depend on him for survival.

After much back-and-forth, Rebecca and Nathaniel decided to attend Silas’s funeral. Dr. Akopian recommended her presence for closure and for the opportunity to continue to strengthen her connection with Naomi, who had promised to attend as a show of goodwill.

The opening of _B &P_ had to be pushed back by a full month.

As anticipated, Rebecca needed time to cope with the loss of her father, with all the conflicting feelings it wrought, and Nathaniel refused to open the firm without her.

“I’m only half the team,” he said.

So Paula helped Nathaniel keep a watchful eye on Rebecca, though she insisted over and over that she didn’t need a babysitter, until she could work again.

Despite the setbacks, _B &P_ opened, albeit with less fanfare than initially planned. At the start, they could only afford two additional staff, Paula and George, who they poached away with minimal effort from the declining _Plimpton & Plimpton & Whitefeather & Associates_. Though small, the four of them were mighty, and all hard-working as hell, especially Paula who was eager to make a name for herself after passing the bar exam.

Once the dust settled after Silas’s passing and the opening of the firm, Nathaniel finally told Rebecca the truth about his childhood and the abuse he suffered. It didn’t come as the biggest shock but confirmed some lingering questions in her mind. The night he told her, they stayed up talking for hours, until the sun peeked over the horizon, and the experience shattered any remaining barriers that may have existed between them.

About a year after opening, after _B &P_ systematically stole away most of their potential clients, _Plimpton & Plimpton_ decided to exit the San Gabriel Valley altogether. Nathaniel graciously paid for his lawyer to represent Darryl to ensure he received an equitable payout and then proceeded to offer him a job on team _B &P._ He accepted with over-the-top enthusiasm, happy to be rid of the stress of ownership, content to simply do his job and spend the rest of his time with daughters Madison and Emaline.

But Rebecca and Nathaniel weren’t the only ones in West Covina who went through a considerable amount of change in the two years since Rebecca took responsibility for her actions.

Valencia moved to Los Angeles, the change precipitated by her breakup with Beth, though she claimed the reason was to take her business to the next level, which she couldn’t do “stuck in West Covina for eternity.”

Heather continued to knock her job at _Home Base_ out of the park (baseball pun intended) and married Hector on a whim at a house-party-turned-surprise-wedding-ceremony.

Josh got a job at Idyllwild Pines Christian Camp, working as a counselor during summer sessions and in Camp Programming in the off-seasons.

White Josh and Darryl reconnected romantically at Emaline’s first birthday party. Still not interested in parenting, White Josh insisted they pursue the relationship at a slow pace, White Josh eventually assuming the role as a fun uncle to the girls rather than a father figure.

On the subject, _B &P_ became a kid-friendly office when Rebecca and Nathaniel, with considerable reluctance, allowed Darryl to bring Emaline during his first week of employment while he tried to find childcare. One week turned into two, then weeks turned into months, and all parties involved at some point developed a soft spot for the little one. Nathaniel, in particular, had an unshakeable inability to dissociate Rebecca and Emaline, who, over time, developed Rebecca’s wild eyes, unruly hair, and a fiery disposition to boot. It wasn’t unusual to see Nathaniel taking a call at his desk, Emaline affixed at his hip while she fiddled with the dangling telephone cord. Eventually her presence became normalized and most clients seemed to be enchanted by the toddler, earning them extra likeability points, much to Rebecca and Nathaniel’s astonishment.

Understandably, clients often mistook the child to be Rebecca and Nathaniel’s. Sometimes they let it slide with a placating smile, feeling no desire to delve into the complicated situation with a potential business partner. But most times, they gently explained that she was Darryl’s daughter without any other clarifying information. When Emaline started to talk, it helped alleviate some of the confusion, as she referred to Darryl as _dada_ and the two of them as _Becca_ and _Nat_. (While her vocabulary was advanced for her age, a consequence of being around adult conversation eight hours a day, three-syllable words were a struggle.) Of course, Nathaniel disliked the shortening of his name at first, but then one day Emaline stretched her arms out to him and squealed “Nat!” while bouncing on her heels, wanting to be picked up, and his heart melted. Nat, it is.

As they approached three years together as a couple, Rebecca and Nathaniel reached a kind of relationship equilibrium. Over time, she grew a bit more grounded, he a bit more idealistic. She developed more discipline, he indulged in the occasional flight of fancy. She lost a little weight, he gained a little. She learned how to be more assertive with clients, he learned how to empathize with them. They fell into a comfortable rhythm. Of course, the two were not without problems (they had their share of rough patches), but they managed through them to the best of their abilities, with a joint therapy session thrown in when deemed necessary.

“Morning huddle!” Rebecca called out to the office at the stroke of nine. She was dressed to kill, in a sharp, plum-colored sheath dress under a matching fitted blazer and three-inch pointy black pumps. Her hair had grown longer, but she kept it dark, thinking it gave her a certain chic edge.

Nathaniel, Paula, George, and Darryl, carrying Emaline, filed into her office, Emaline lifting her arms into the air and yelling “Huddle!” in a high-pitched echo.

Rebecca picked up a file folder and said, all business, “We’ve got the clients from West Park Apartments today at 2:00. We _really_ need this client. Darryl, can I trust you to take the lead on this? We cannot screw this up.”

“Rebecca, I promise I can do this. I will not let you down!” Darryl insisted, reaching out and taking the folder from Rebecca.

“Paula, amazing job settling the Jimmy’s House of Spirits case. You are my shining star and I love you,” Rebecca beamed.

“Love you too,” Paula replied with a wink.

“But we can’t rest on our laurels. I want you to follow up with them and see if you can squeeze any referrals out of this win. Got it?”

“Got it, boss.”

“Nathaniel, you hooked that lead with South Hills Country Club. To no one’s surprise you connected with them on that male, straight, white level. I know you’ll reel them in, my handsome, smooth-talking, jungle cat.”

Nathaniel smiled back in response.

“And George, you, uh, keep up the good work, I guess. Alright, good huddle!” Rebecca concluded, clapping her hands together.

As Darryl and George left Rebecca’s office, again a tiny voice rang out, “Huddle!”

“Wait, we haven’t discussed the most important piece of business, which is that it’s your birthday in a few days,” Paula announced, in a sing-songy voice.

Rebecca waved a hand to dismiss the sentiment. “Let’s not make a big deal out of it. I’m not ready for thirty. It means I have to actually be an adult.”

“Still! We should at least get drinks or something to celebrate.”

“Of course. We will. But for now let’s get back to work. We cannot slack off, even for a second.”

Paula did as she was told and Nathaniel lingered behind. “You’re starting to sound like me these days,” he observed as she sat down behind her desk.

“You know, I really like being the boss. I think it suits me.”

“Co-boss.”

“Of course. Co-boss.”

(In fact, Nathaniel put up seventy-five percent of the investment, both because he had the money and because the firm was his idea, but they ran the business as if they were equal partners. No one knew about the disparity in equity except the two of them.)

“And it does suit you,” he agreed. “Speaking of your birthday, the big three-oh, I did make reservations for dinner on Saturday for us. Think you can take a day off from being the boss?”

“I think I can pencil you in,” she replied with a sly grin.

“Perfect. Ok, back to work,” he ordered, copying her cadence, clapping his hands together the way she did moments ago.

“Is that what I sound like?” she teased back. “Get out of here, Plimpton. This is _my_ office. Oh, and tell that mini-me to stop mimicking me too. I swear, the two of you are incorrigible.”

*****

“If you don’t tell me where we’re going, then I don’t know how to dress,” Rebecca complained as she stood in front of the closet Saturday evening in her bra and panties.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Nathaniel replied from the master bathroom.

“Will you please just tell me?”

“Ok fine,” he said, a little miffed, emerging from the bathroom dressed in a charcoal grey suit and black tie.

“See, you look dressed up. You have to tell me if I need to get dressed up,” she whined, shoving hangers around in the closet.

“Il Cielo. That’s where we’re going.”

Rebecca stopped her movements. “Wait, isn’t that where we had our first date?”

“It is.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Now I feel bad for being annoyed. Why do you have to be so thoughtful all the time?” After much contemplation, she settled on a sleeveless burgundy dress with a sweetheart neckline and full flowing skirt.

The drive to the restaurant was dominated by business talk. Since they opened _B &P,_ the firm consumed most of their lives, much in the way having a baby completely shifts every aspect of the parents’ lives. And, in a way, the firm _was_ their baby. They created it from nothing, nurtured and developed it, and hoped one day it could run on its own without their constant supervision. When they reached a lull in the conversation, just before pulling into the restaurant, Nathaniel suggested, “Let’s not talk about work the rest of the night. It’s your birthday. Let’s take a night off.” Rebecca agreed.

The host seated them in a small room with a handful of tables, all of which were empty, devoid of place settings, save for one, a rounded corner booth with two glasses of champagne waiting for them. As Rebecca slid into the booth, she whispered, “Is this whole room for us?”

“Happy birthday,” he said with pride, draping an arm around the back of the booth and picking up one of the champagne flutes in his other hand.

“This is amazing,” she cooed, picking up the other glass.

“To you, my girlfriend,” he toasted, “on your thirtieth birthday. Welcome to my age bracket.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes.

“I hope your thirtieth year is full of, um, happiness and less working hours, I hope. You are smart and ambitious and sweet…”

“...and very hungry. Can we wrap this up?”

“...and beautiful. And I love you.”

“Cheers,” she said and kissed him before clinking their glasses together. “You’re ok if I get a little drunk, right? You’re driving.”

“Go for it. Also, another gift to you. I’m going to let you order for both of us.”

“Oooh!” she squealed.

He held up his pointer finger and added, “Within reason.”

Rebecca ordered two pasta dishes for them to split, as Nathaniel tried, and failed, to hide his grimace over the excessive amount of carbs. As they ate, she said, “Remember how nervous you were when you asked me to be your girlfriend?”

“I wasn’t nervous,” he protested, his cheeks turning pink.

“You were adorable. You tried to be all chivalrous. You pulled out my chair and opened my car door for me,” she giggled.

“I think most women would find that charming.”

“I liked it. I’m just teasing.”

“And, if I recall, you gave me a hard time about being such a tough boss. Ironic now, isn’t it?”

“I did?”

“You don’t remember? You said I was a jerk as a boss to get my dad to hug me.”

She smirked as she finished chewing on a bite of pasta. “I don’t remember that, but it sounds pretty spot-on to me.”

“You’re lucky I can laugh about that now,” he said with a chuckle.

“Wooo, I am feeling this champagne,” she said, expelling a breath and stretching her back against the booth. “It feels so good to relax and not talk about work, right?”

Nathaniel nodded and mirrored her body language, leaning back away from the table.

Rebecca’s eyes darted around the room and then back at Nathaniel. Wiggling her eyebrows at him, she asked “Do you want to make out? Can we make out in here? When’s the last time we just made out?”

Nathaniel barked out a laugh, taken aback by the request. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

The truth was there was a lot of things they hadn’t done together in a long time. Talk was mostly about work. Dates were practically out-of-the-question. Even sex, their area of expertise, was hurried and, most of the time, scheduled. Kissing for the sake of kissing? Who has time for that?

Her eyes narrowed on his mouth, her lips parted in anticipation, and he met her halfway, softly catching her lips between his. The kiss was sweet, slow, comforting, but with an undercurrent of hunger for each other they hadn’t allowed themselves to feel in some time. She cupped his jaw with her palm to draw him closer and opened her mouth to him, her tongue coated with the effervescent tang of champagne. His free hand drifted to her waist, just barely touching the underside of her breast.

It felt so damn _good_ to be with him like this, pushing aside all their responsibilities and focusing only on the feel of his hands on her and the lazy movement of his mouth against hers. Between the taste of his mouth and the woody smell of his soap and the buzz from the alcohol, Rebecca felt utterly blissed-out, liquid desire beginning to pool hot and dark within her, begging for attention.

She whimpered softly and moved her hand to his thigh, where she lightly grazed the reason why they could never _just_ make out. At her touch, he twitched, then ghosted his hand up the side of her breast to her neck, running his thumb lightly over the column of her throat and kissing her even deeper.

The footfalls of the approaching server caused them to finally break apart. Nathaniel straightened up and cleared his throat, wiping away at his mouth for lipstick he knew would be there, all while Rebecca watched on, amused at his embarrassment, and just shrugged at the server.

“Check please?”

As they began the forty-five minute journey home, Rebecca squirmed, restless, in her seat. Her movements caught Nathaniel’s eye and he squinted at her, “What’s going on with you? Are you ok?”

“Well…” she started, full of anticipation, as if Nathaniel should already know the answer to his question.

His eyes flitted over to her, then returned to the road. “What?”

“We’re gonna pull over and have sex, right?!” The words burst out of her as if she had been holding them in for years.

“What? No. Let’s wait until we get home.”

“But it’s like our first date. Remember? Ugh, that was so hot and sexy and...”

“...and super uncomfortable. Rebecca, we have a bed that we share now. We don’t have to rut around on the side of the road like teenagers.”

She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout and crossed her arms. “You’re no fun.”

Nathaniel glanced over at her and laughed. “You look like Em right now.”

“She looks like me,” she corrected. “And we never have spontaneous sex anymore. Come on, it’s my birthday and I’m horny.”

Nathaniel glanced down at his watch.

“I’m sorry, do you have somewhere you need to be?”

“No, it’s just…”

“What?”

“Fine,” he acquiesced, in a split second decision, pulling the car over to the side of the highway.

As soon as the car came to a full stop, Rebecca unclipped her seat belt and reached over the console to unfasten his. With a grunt, she climbed over to his seat and settled in his lap, his hands splaying out on her back to receive her. She scrambled for his tie, pulling at the knot as she buried her nose in his neck.

The tie came loose quick and she unbuttoned his shirt in a flurry. When she exposed his chest, she scooted back to admire her handiwork, running her hands from his collarbone to his belt, while Nathaniel simply watched her behind hooded eyes, stroking her sides in encouragement.

As she began to unbuckle his belt, she felt transported her back to their first date, three years ago, in this same spot, when their want of each other was so raw and desperate, as if they could be torn apart if they waited any longer. When she begged him to pull over, she wanted to recapture that moment, that frenetic energy, that sexual heat. But as she looked at him, his eyes so full of love for her, she realized they could never fully recreate that night. Because now things were different. Now, their bond was much stronger than some fleeting infatuation. They were partners, a team. They had built a life together.

Her hands at his belt slowed and then stopped altogether at this stroke of insight.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing, always noticing, her subtle change in mood.

“Nothing. I just…we’ve been so go-go-go lately.”

“I know.”

“We haven’t been, um, connecting, have we?”

“No, we haven’t.”

For a long moment they stared at each other, their breaths syncing together, truly seeing each other for the first time in weeks.

“We don’t have to have sex right now,” she said, apologetic, almost embarrassed by her actions.

He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, his expression thoughtful. “Actually, I think we should. ”

He was right. They should. So they did, slow and deliberate, savoring each other, mindful that their quality time together was precious and rare.

Her orgasm came quicker than usual, and quieter. A smouldering warmth burned deep in her core and spread up through her chest, shooting out to her fingertips and down to her toes, and everywhere in between. Tension she had been holding in for weeks let loose from every muscle, as if her whole body let out a giant sigh of relief. He stuck with her as she came down, slowing his thrusts through her aftershocks, all while studying her face in rapt attention.

“What?” she asked, breathless, when she noticed how intently he was gazing at her.

“I love watching you come.”

“Oh,” she said, smiling, a little self-conscious. She tipped forward and pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Well, I love how you smell,” she replied, inhaling his mixture of aftershave and sweat.

“Mmm, I love how you taste,” he countered, rubbing his hands over her back.

“I love how you kiss,” she said, leaning back on his thighs, lifting an eyebrow and shooting him a devious smile.

“I love,” he paused for a moment, choosing his words, his expression turning more serious, “I love how you believe in me.”

She tilted her head to the side, touched by the sentiment. “I love how you never give up on me, even when things get hard,” she said, brushing his hair off his forehead.

“I love how you’re busting your ass for my dream.”

“I love how you still manage to surprise me.”

He raised his eyebrows, prompting her to expand on her comment.

“Like how you are with Em. You’re so sweet with her. Much better than I am.”

He gave her a small shrug. “She’s easy to love, don’t you think?”

Rebecca broke eye contact, knowing exactly what he was trying to get her to admit. She knew Nathaniel thought of Emaline as an extension of herself. The similarities were impossible to ignore, not only in Emaline’s striking resemblance, but also in her copied verbal and physical mannerisms, which, in retrospect, they should have predicted considering she spent forty hours a week watching Rebecca work. “She has her moments, I guess,” she said after a long pause.

Nathaniel shifted in his seat, triggering an involuntary jerk of his hips. “Sorry, that was poorly timed.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have this conversation while you’re still inside me,” she joked.

He thrust up again, harder this time, flexing his long fingers into her hips. “What do you say, sunshine, think you can go again?”

The corners of her lips quirked up. “Mmm hmm,” she hummed and moved up and down on him, feeling the build of a second around the corner.

After they made love again, they drove back to West Covina in comfortable silence, their fingers laced together, resting on Rebecca’s left thigh, as she stared dreamily out the window, sated and content.

“Can we make one stop before we go home?” Nathaniel asked once they were a few miles away from their destination.

“I’m so tired. Can it wait? I’m thirty now and need my beauty rest.”

“It’ll be fast, I promise.”

She sighed and tipped her head back against the headrest. “Ok.”

A few minutes later, Nathaniel pulled into a familiar parking lot, causing Rebecca to lean forward at attention.

“What...what are we doing here?”

“I want to show you something.”

“The office is empty,” she said, pointing up at the _For Rent_ sign posted in the window. “What’s going on?”

“Just trust me,” he reassured her, opening the car door with confidence. He lead her by the hand to the side door of the building, where they had entered countless times before. To her surprise, the door was unlocked and he guided her wordlessly to the elevator and up to the floor where they worked together not long ago. It was an eerie bit of déjà vu, being back there, where everything was familiar yet somehow different at the same time.

When the elevator doors dinged open, the space felt enormous, cavernous, between all the missing furniture and the almost foreboding dimmed lighting. The only evidence that remained of their existence was a few stray cubicle walls, some sheets of paper littered on the floor, and the decrepit copy machine, apparently too obsolete to bring along. Rebecca half-expected a tumbleweed to roll by as they surveyed the room.

“Did you...we can’t afford this place right now,” Rebecca said, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Nathaniel’s hand found the small of her back and he gave her a gentle push toward the conference room, which emitted a soft glow, the only lighting to speak of in the entire office. The long conference room table still stood in its rightful place, but the top was filled with hundreds of lit candles and a vase with a dozen crimson roses.

“What is all this?”

“This is where we met.”

A nervous laugh escaped from her lips, “I know, but what’s…?”

“Rebecca,” he said, the word heavy, laden with significance. He reached out and held both her hands, his damp with sweat, and cleared his throat, looking deep into her eyes.

“Oh my god,” she said, the realization of his intent hitting her right in the chest.

“Rebecca,” he tried again, a second time.

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” she gushed, her eyes searching his face, her breathing quickening.

He smiled in amusement. “I have a whole thing prepared so can you...”

“Sorry, sorry. You go.”

“Rebecca, before I met you, I didn’t think love was an option for me. Growing up, I was taught that loving someone is a sign a weakness that can be exploited. I didn’t have any great examples of loving relationships in my life. But then I met you. Right here. And you made me challenge everything. And, god, I fell in love with you so hard, so fast. Didn’t I?”

His eyes, so soft and open and vulnerable, and his words, so heartfelt and honest, made tears begin to form in her eyes.

She smiled and nodded. “Yea, you did.”

“You changed my life. You showed me I could be a different person. A better person. When I’m with you, I’m the best version of myself. And I know I wouldn’t be where I am today without you.”

He reached out and wiped away a tear that had escaped from her eye. “I want to be with you the rest of my life.”

Nathaniel kneeled at her feet.

Rebecca sucked in a breath, the full weight of the moment sinking in.

“Oh my god,” she said again, her new mantra, blinking hard.

“This is ok, right?”

She nodded emphatically for him to go on.

“Um,” he hesitated a moment and let out a shaky breath. “The day you told me you loved me was probably the happiest day of my life. But do you know what day is going to be even better?”

“What?”

“The day we get married,” he said, breaking out into a grin.

“Yea,” she exhaled, letting her tears flow, unashamed, “Yea, it will.”

He released her hand and reached into the inner breast pocket of his jacket. Rebecca tried to take a deep breath, her heart racing so fast and hard she feared it may explode. As she expected, he pulled out a small black box, but, unlike two years ago, when the sight of such an object filled her with fear and anxiety, this time she felt nothing but pure, unadulterated joy.

“Rebecca,” he said as he opened the box.

“Yes,” she said, resolute, her eyes never leaving his.

“Will you -”

“Yes.”

“- marry me?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

Rebecca sank to her knees and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, chanting, “I love you. I love you.” He wrapped his arms around her back with the same fervor and whispered, “I love you too,” into her hair.

When she finally released him from her grip, he fumbled to get the ring out of the box, then slid it onto her left hand, which trembled with adrenaline.

“Holy crap!” she cried, seeing the ring for the first time in all its sparkling glory. She had been so swept up by the proposal she hadn’t even glanced down at the ring. “Wow,” she said, extending her arm out in front of her to admire the ring. “Wow. I’m speechless.”

Nathaniel rose from the floor, wincing as he unfolded his stiff legs from under him, and helped Rebecca to her feet. Finally able to breathe and process the entire situation, she looked around the room and asked, “How did you do all this?”

Just as she asked the question, she noticed Paula, standing silent outside the conference room, holding up her phone, smiling tearfully.

Nathaniel tilted his head toward her, “I had some help.”

Paula snapped one more photo and then lowered the phone, opening her arms wide. “Congratulations!”

Rebecca ran to her and pulled her into a fierce embrace.

“How do you feel?!” Paula asked while they hugged.

“I don’t know! I’m in shock! I’m shaking!”

Paula pulled away and reached for her hand. “Oh my god, that ring!” she exclaimed. “Nice work!”

“Thanks for all your help. And sorry we were late.”

Rebecca’s eyes went wide. “Oooh. That’s my fault. I made him pull over and have sex with me in the car.”

Paula blinked hard and pulled her hand away from Rebecca’s. “Thanks for that visual.”

“Sorry.”

Rebecca turned back to Nathaniel and cupped his cheek with her left hand. “Thank you. For today. I’m so happy,” she said, earnest, grateful.

“Me too,” he said and covered her hand with his.

*****

“Morning huddle!”

Their five-and-a-half person crew gathered in Rebecca’s office, ready for the daily rundown. However, unlike every other morning, Rebecca nestled into the crook of Nathaniel’s arm, her face wild with excitement.

“Nathaniel and I have something to announce and it trumps any other business we’ve ever had or ever will have!”

She paused for dramatic effect.

“We’re engaged!” she exclaimed, squeezing Nathaniel around the middle.

No one reacted, save for Emaline, who raised up her arms and squealed in delight, flawlessly matching Rebecca’s energy.

“I’m glad one person here knows how to react properly to an engagement. Why is no one freaking out?”

“They already knew,” Nathaniel explained, apologetic. “Darryl still knows the landlord of the old office and convinced him to let us in for the night.”

“And I bought the candles,” George added. “Also, it’s Monday morning, we’re all tired, and this is no worse than the reaction to your last engagement.”

“George,” Nathaniel scolded.

Rebecca stomped her foot on the floor. “Nathaniel, you stole my thunder!”

“Well I, for one, am just thrilled. You two are the perfect couple!” Darryl blurted out.

“I also want to say,” Paula jumped in, “that I couldn’t be happier for the two of you. The way you’ve grown together and become such partners, and our fearless leaders, is really something and you deserve nothing less.”

“Awww, thank you. Both of you. Next week we are having an engagement party and you are all invited. You better be there and _all_ of you better be way more enthusiastic than this,” Rebecca said, pinning George with an accusatory stare.

“So have you talked about the big day? When are you thinking?” Paula asked.

Rebecca looked to Nathaniel. “This Fall.”

“ _This_ Fall? It’s almost May. That doesn’t leave you a lot of time, honey.”

“It’s going to be a small thing. Five, six months is more than enough time,” Rebecca assured her, shrugging. “Nothing to worry about.”

Sure, nothing to worry about.

Except they barely had time to even go on a date, let alone plan a wedding.

Except they had invested most of their money in the business.

Except she had no one to walk her down the aisle.

Except Nathaniel was estranged from his parents.

Except for the crushing, debilitating fear that she would be left at the altar a second time.

Nothing to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Email: heartbashfic@gmail.com
> 
> Art credit to: @pictureofsoph1sticatedgrace


	2. Undue Hardship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Valencia throws Rebecca and Nathaniel an engagement party, not everything goes according to plan. Rebecca and Nathaniel are in a midst of an argument and an uninvited guest shows up to the party and stirs up trouble.

__

_Undue hardship: Noun. (law) a special or specified circumstances that partially or fully exempt a person or organization from performance of a legal obligation so as to avoid an unreasonable or disproportionate burden or obstacle._

Money talks, but he hates to listen.

After the fallout between Nathaniel and his father, Nathaniel was cut off from his family’s resources. Not that he didn’t have money of his own, he did, but the perks of working for the family business afforded him luxuries he didn’t quite appreciate until they were ripped away. For the first time, he had to buy his own plane tickets, his own car, pay for gas, pay rent. The company would no longer pay for his lifestyle and Nathaniel suspected his father took some sick retaliatory pleasure in his floundering. He probably thought his son couldn’t survive on his own and would eventually come crawling back. 

Or maybe Nathaniel was overthinking the whole thing.

Either way, the sticker shock was real when he finally had to pony up for all things he used to get for free, and, boy, did they add up. For the first time in his life he had to make a budget and stick to it. Thankfully, one of his strengths was discipline, and he tried to apply the same mindset to money that he used to apply to his diet. 

When it came time to draw up the partnership for _Bunch & Plimpton_, it exposed how little money Rebecca had in savings. Nathaniel felt obligated to put up the majority of the funds because he was the one who convinced her to take this huge risk, to quit her job and follow him, with no guarantee they would succeed or even survive. All she had was her faith in him, the faith that he wouldn’t never willingly put her in harm’s way, and she trusted that fact with her whole heart. So, despite his new-found financial hardships, he invested most of his proceeds into the new business, swallowing his fear and hiding it from Rebecca, unwilling to admit how much he lost by standing up to his father.

The home they rented together was modest, charming. Three bedrooms, one and half baths, fifteen hundred square feet, a small yard. (A large tub, as insisted by Rebecca.) Just enough for two people. When they first moved in together, they purposefully chose a home they could afford by splitting the rent equally, but Nathaniel, perhaps naively, assumed once they were engaged or married, he would upgrade them to a large, opulent home. 

That dream flitted away when the firm was born, so he adjusted his expectations accordingly, but with considerable angst. Thus, two years later, they still rented the same humble home in West Covina. Rebecca was content, too busy working to dwell on square footage or curb appeal or granite countertops, utterly oblivious to Nathaniel’s strife over his inability to provide more for her. 

His insecurity reared its ugly head, in the early days of _B &P_, when a client Nathaniel believed was a sure-thing slipped out of his grasp. At the time, every client counted, even the smallest ones. Every insecurity he had tried to compartmentalize into tiny boxes in his subconscious, burst forth, unbidden, suffocating him with crippling self-doubt.

“I can’t afford to give you everything you want,” he said to her, one day, when the burden of his unleashed anxiety became too much to keep inside.

Rebecca, who had been reviewing a brief, nestled under a grey blanket on their overstuffed sofa, squinted at him like he had sprouted three heads. “Huh? What?”

“I can’t give you a big mansion or a fancy car or trips to Paris on a private jet,” he said, with a labored exhale, as if he confessed some lifelong secret. 

“Um, ok.”

“That’s it? Ok?”

“When did I say I needed those things? Projecting much?”

His eyes darted down to his hands as he wrung them together and he tilted his head. “Well I...I guess I assumed...” he stammered.

“Nathaniel, oh my god,” she laughed. “Come here,” she said, patting a spot on the couch beside her and tossing the folder on the coffee table. 

Once he sat down, she said, “I know this has been hard for you. Emotionally. Mentally. Financially. But what you did, and what we’re doing with this firm, is amazing. We’re building something together. And business will pick up. I’m absolutely certain.”

He sighed, silent for several moments. “I’ve second-guessed my decision about a million times.”

She covered his hand with hers. “I know you have.”

“I guess I’m still adjusting to all the changes. I’ve...we’ve both been through a lot these past few years.”

She nodded with encouragement. “We have. But, hey, we’re making it work! Right?” 

The naked hope in her voice, the optimism, the implicit trust in him, made his chest feel warm. “Yea,” he agreed and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I know it hasn’t been that long, but I’ve noticed a change in you.”

“Really?”

“You’re lighter. That’s the best way I can think to describe it.”

“Huh,” he said, realizing she was right. Without the ever-looming dark cloud of his father’s presence, he did feel lighter. He laced his fingers with hers and his expression turned thoughtful. “Having Em around has put the whole situation into perspective for me too.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel protective of her, I guess. And it makes me wonder,” he paused, the words catching in his throat, “how someone could do what he did.”

Rebecca’s face crumpled at the thought. “I know, honey,” she said, tracing a circular path with her thumb over his hand.

“The way she looks at me. With complete trust.” He let out a shaky breath and met Rebecca’s eyes. She regarded him with grave seriousness, a little wrinkle formed above her nose.

“And she looks like you, you know? And I know I look like my mother. How…?” 

But he didn’t need to finish the thought. 

“I wish I had an answer for you,” she whispered. 

“I don’t think there is an answer. What I’m trying to say is she helped me realize I made the right choice.”

“I think you did,” she said, reassuring him.

“I never want my father to meet her, even come close to her. Ever.”

Rebecca squeezed his hand. “There’s a security desk at the office. We approve all visitors. It’s never gonna happen. No need to add this to your list of worries.”

“Right, of course,” he said, scoffing at himself. “I don’t know why that popped into my head.”

“Everything’s going to be ok. And I can live without an expensive car as long as I have my big tub,” she joked, pressing a smiling kiss to his lips. 

“Deal.”

*****

“Valencia is going to be here any minute!” Rebecca hollered to Nathaniel from the kitchen, as she scrubbed the counter in a last-ditch effort to make the house spotless. “You know, I really shouldn’t be doing this! I’m wearing white! I can’t get this dress dirty!”

Nathaniel emerged from the hallway in a grey suit and lavender tie, running his hands through his hair. “Sorry, sorry, I’m coming.” 

When he reached the threshold of the kitchen, a grin spread across his face at the scene unfolding in front of him. Rebecca was wiping down the counter with gusto while elegantly styled in a sleeveless A-line dress with delicate white lace overlay. An amusing juxtaposition.

“Hey, hey,” he said and tugged at her arm, “No more cleaning. The house is as clean as it’s going to be. Everything is going to be fine.” He gently took the sponge out of her hand and tossed it into the sink.

She sighed. “You promise?”

“Yes,” he said, squeezing both her arms and dropping a kiss to her cheek. With a mischievous smile, looking her up and down, he said, “You look gorgeous in white, Mrs. Plimpton.”

“Mrs. Plimpton,” she repeated to herself, under her breath. 

“Huh?” 

Rebecca crossed her arms in front of her chest, frowning. “Can you please stop calling me that? That joke isn’t funny anymore now that we’re actually engaged.” She pointed toward the hallway, in an attempt to shoo him away, “Can you go grab the good towels out of the dryer for the bathrooms?”

Nathaniel, taken aback, replied, “Sorry, what? I can’t call you _Mrs. Plimpton_ anymore? Kind of weird, considering.”

“You know I’m not taking that name so you better start getting used to it,” she said with a derisive laugh.

“Since when?”

“Since always. Right? It’s a joke.”

Nathaniel’s faltered, every inch of his face marred with disappointment.

“Please. Are you serious? We don’t have time to get into all the reasons there’s no way in hell I’m taking your name. Go get the towels.”

“No,” he said, straightening his back, “I want to hear why you’re not even _considering_ taking my name.”

Rebecca raised her eyebrows, her irritation palpably escalating by the second. “Fine. For one, all my accreditations are in my name. I’m known professionally by my name and we need every ounce of recognition to get more clients. We would have to change the name of the firm. You didn’t think about that when we registered our partnership? And do you really think it would be wise to have the exact same name as our competitor? It’s confusing enough now as it is.”

Nathaniel pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are completely missing the point.”

“How am I missing the point? What point?” Not waiting for his answer, she continued, “Even putting all the professional reasons aside, which are numerous, my name is my identity. You’re asking me to change my identity. I don’t belong to you. I’m not your property.”

“I know you’re not.”

“What about me, and what you know about me, makes you think I would want to change my name?” 

Nathaniel bit his lip. 

“What?” she urged. “Just say whatever the hell you want to say. Why do you want this so bad all of a sudden? Just be honest with me.”

“You want honesty?”

“Yes!”

Nathaniel paused for a beat, choosing his words. “My parents aren’t even invited to my own engagement party, Rebecca,” he finally said, the words heavy with pain. 

“Ok.”

“And I know it was my decision but that doesn’t make it any easier. The truth is, I don’t have a family anymore. I don’t have my parents. I don’t have siblings. I barely have an extended family. I know it’s just a name, and a piece of paper, and I know it’s not rational. But I thought if we have the same name, it’s like _we’re_ a family. Me and you. And that’s what I want.”

Rebecca’s whole face softened, the wrinkles on her forehead smoothing. 

“Will you please just think about it? Consider it? That’s all I’m asking.”

The question lingered in the air, Rebecca stunned silent by his unexpected outpouring of emotion.

Before she could summon an answer, the front door swung open and Valencia announced her presence with a joyful, “It’s party time!” 

Valencia strolled into the house, dressed in black, balancing on impossibly high heels, while carrying a large box in her arms. She stopped short when she noticed Rebecca and Nathaniel sharing a charged, intense look. 

Immediately reading the room, she plopped the box down on the kitchen table and protested, “No, no, no. You two cannot be fighting right now. Whatever is happening, cut it out. This is your engagement party and it will not be ruined by whatever this is.”

“We’re fine,” Rebecca said, “Everything’s fine.”

“Yea,” Nathaniel agreed, clearing his throat. 

A tall, slender woman, with long, dark, curly hair, also holding a large box, entered the house and followed Valencia’s lead, placing it on the table. 

“This is Camila, my girlfriend-slash-assistant for the day.”

Camila shook both their hands warmly and then looked to Valencia with worry.

“They were having a fight,” Valencia explained to Camila, as if Rebecca and Nathaniel couldn’t hear her aside. “But they’re sucking it up because it’s their party and they love each other. Right guys?” Valencia put on her biggest fake grin and pinned them both with an accusatory stare.

Rebecca and Nathaniel both forced a smile. 

“Great!” Valencia exclaimed with faux enthusiasm. “Camila is going to help set up the decorations while I put together the mimosa bar. Want to help, Rebecca?”

“I’ll, um, get the towels,” Nathaniel said, lackluster, and disappeared down the hallway.

As Valencia unpacked an array of fruits and champagne from one of the boxes, she asked, “Rebecca, what is going on? Today is supposed to be a happy day.”

Rebecca feigned interest in helping, reaching into the box and pulling out some champagne flutes. “Nathaniel picked a fight with me about changing my name.”

Valencia raised an eyebrow in disapproval. “Really?”

“Apparently that’s something he wants.”

“Whatever. He’ll get over it. Enough with that patriarchal bullshit. Right?”

“I know, I know. But I don’t think it’s about that.”

“Really? Mr. Nathaniel J. Plimpton _the third,_ Esquire?”

“Point taken.”

“He’ll get past it. Stay strong.”

Rebecca half-smiled at the support but didn’t feel any better. Maybe Valencia was right. Maybe Nathaniel was subconsciously acting out of generations of ingrained familial patriarchy. Or maybe he did care about the symbolism of sharing a name. If only she could rewind the day, go back to their conversation, and try again. She would insist they finish, not let the issue linger and hang over the party without resolution. 

Before long, Camila and Valencia expertly transformed their home from everyday to elegant. Every available surface was swathed in gold and mint-colored linens and oversized glitter-filled balloons floated like clouds throughout the house, creating a dreamlike aura. 

Next to the staged mimosa bar, seven gold balloons in the corner of the dining room spelled out E-N-G-A-G-E-D. 

Darryl, White Josh, and Emaline were the first to arrive. When Rebecca greeted them, Emaline clung to Darryl and buried her face in his shirt, muttering grumpy noises.

“Fussy,” Darryl explained as he walked into the house. 

“You can say that again,” White Josh quipped, following close behind. 

“She needs a nap. Is it ok if she sleeps in your bedroom?”

“Of course,” Rebecca said and Darryl whisked her away.

White Josh stepped forward and offered Rebecca an envelope. “Rebecca. I, um, wanted to give you this. This is just for you. From me.” 

“Really?” she asked, incredulous, not having a slightest clue what the card would hold.

White Josh rubbed his arm, nervous. “Just open it. Let’s get this over with.”

Rebecca tore open the envelope. The front of the card had a plain white background with blocky black text.

_I’m Sorry I Was a Dick_

A cackle burst out of her when she read the words. 

He shrugged, “It was a make-your-own type thing.”

She opened the card, which was blank inside, except for a short message in his handwriting:

_I was wrong about you._

_Also, congratulations._

_Josh_

Rebecca’s eyes spontaneously welled up with tears. “Oh my god, Josh,” she gushed.

“I mean it,” he said, “I’m happy for you guys.”

“Thank you,” she said, sincere, and hugged him.

“Whoa, what is happening?” Nathaniel said from behind them as he approached the entryway.

Rebecca pulled away from White Josh and closed the card. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Congratulations, man,” White Josh jumped in, shaking Nathaniel’s hand. “I’m proud of you. You let that ring burn a hole in your pocket for two whole years. What a champ.”

Rebecca squinted at Nathaniel. “Wait. What? You bought this ring two years ago?”

White Josh’s eyes went wide. “Oh, you didn’t tell her?” 

Nathaniel squeezed his eyes shut.

“Uh, I’m gonna check out that bar,” White Josh pointed and then slinked away into the living room.

Rebecca gripped the card, almost bending it in half. “What else does White Josh know about our relationship that I don’t?”

“Rebecca, come on.”

A slew of arrivals interrupted any hope of a real conversation. First, Paula and Scott. Then, George. A few of Nathaniel’s family friends. (The ones who didn’t disown him after he left the firm.) Heather and Hector, fashionably late. 

Naomi even made the trip, though Rebecca suspected it was only to prove to herself that the engagement was real, to see it with her own two eyes. 

“Can you believe she hooked this one?” Rebecca overheard Naomi say at one point to a crowd of Nathaniel’s amused guests. Naomi wrapped her hand around Nathaniel’s bicep, squeezing. “Look at him. Built like a clydesdale. How’d she manage to pull this one off?”

Nathaniel’s friends laughed, delighted by Naomi.

Rebecca rolled her eyes as she approached the group. “Honey, I’m joking,” Naomi said, taking the mimosa from Rebecca’s hand and taking a sip. “I love her. She knows I’m joking,” she said to her captive audience. 

“That mimosa was for me.”

“So where’s my not-granddaughter?” Naomi asked.

“Taking a nap in our bedroom. Do not go in there and wake her up. She’s in her terrible twos and Darryl will flip if she doesn’t get her nap.”

“What, you think I don’t get the terrible twos? I raised you, remember? You were a complete monster at two. Always throwing temper tantrums. So dramatic.” 

Nathaniel snuck his arm around Rebecca’s shoulders and she stiffened at his touch. 

“Let me see the ring again,” Naomi said, beckoning Rebecca to hold out her hand. 

Rebecca did as she was told and gave the rest of the group a sheepish look. 

“Now _that’s_ how you buy a ring. Why didn’t I think to marry rich when I was your age? Because I was an idiot that’s why. I always knew she was a smart one.”

Nathaniel’s arm tensed around Rebecca as he avoided Naomi’s eyes. 

“Uh, maybe it’s time for cake?” Rebecca suggested. She caught Valencia’s eye from across the room and pointed toward the cake. To drive the point home she pantomimed holding a fork and eating several bites. 

“Cake time!” Valencia announced to the room, sensing Rebecca’s urgency.

The group dispersed and turned their attention to the cake, which was double-layered, frosted in white, with _N & R _in cursive black script on the top.__

“This cake is dynamite,” Paula said to Rebecca and Nathaniel once they all had a slice. “You know, I would have just picked up a Costco sheet cake. But Valencia knows what she’s doing.”

Rebecca nodded and took a bite. 

“Sweetie, have you thought any more about the wedding date? I mean, it seems so soon. There’s no need to rush.”

Nathaniel looked to Rebecca in surprise, making it painfully obvious it was the first time he heard of this concern.

“Paula, listen, four, five months is more than enough time. Did you know the goat gestation period is five months?”

“Why do you know so much about animal gestation periods?”

“Because I look them up for these specific conversations.”

“Is it too fast?” Nathaniel jumped in, his eyes darting between Rebecca and Paula. 

“No, don’t listen to her. Paula, please stop. Nathaniel and I have a specific venue in mind and they said they think they’re going to have a cancellation in September.”

“And what’s more romantic than taking the spot of a broken engagement?” Paula interrupted.

“It’s going to be a small thing anyway! It’ll be a piece of cake.” Rebecca said, holding up her cake and smiling broadly, trying to win her over. 

Paula turned her attention to Nathaniel. “You keep an eye on this one. The last time she tried to plan a wedding, well, you know.”

“Paula! Give me a little credit. Plus, that was only two weeks. A completely different situation.”

Rebecca’s phone chimed.

Valencia  
  
**Sat, Apr 27,** 4:15 PM  
911  
Report to the front door.  
DON’T BRING NATHANIEL.  


“Uh, excuse me for one moment. You all keep talking amongst yourselves.”

Rebecca dropped off her plate in the kitchen and then beelined for the front door. After checking over her shoulder to make sure she was out of Nathaniel’s sight, she slipped out the door and was confronted with the last two people she expected to see. 

“Rebecca, Mr. and Mrs. Plimpton are here,” Valencia said, stating the obvious, her voice wavering, panicky.

For about fifteen seconds, way too long for a silence in a conversation, Rebecca stood, stunned, her eyes wide, until she could finally formulate the words. “Uhhh, of course, Mr. and Mrs. Plimpton, how are you?”

Valencia jumped in. “They heard about the party from their family friends, the Lees.”

“I see. Valencia, why don’t you go back to the party so I can speak with my future in-laws,” Rebecca said, almost physically cringing at the words.

She waited until the door clicked shut behind Valencia and asked, “So, what brings you two to our lovely home?”

Mr. Plimpton regarded the facade of the house with distaste. “This is where my son lives?” he asked, rhetorically, barely under his breath. 

“It’s our son’s engagement party, dear. I assume our invitation was lost in the mail by some careless error,” Mrs. Plimpton said, her back stiff straight, in a way that was so painfully Nathaniel it made Rebecca want to cry.

Rebecca inhaled deeply, gathering courage. “With all due respect, Mrs. Plimpton, my understanding is that you haven’t been in touch with Nathaniel in quite some time.”

Mr. Plimpton interjected, gruff, “It’s really none of your business. Can you please get Nathaniel and we’ll speak to him directly on this matter?” His eyes shifted over to the living room window, trying to catch a glimpse of the party.

For a moment Rebecca wavered, Mr. Plimpton’s piercing stare causing a nervous pit to form in her stomach. But then, like a carousel slideshow projector of memories, she saw every hurt expression, every tear, every painful word Nathaniel shared with her over the past three years, and she knew what she had to do.

“I have to say no. I’m sorry.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yea, um, even though you are scaring the crap out of me right now, I cannot let you in. I don’t think it would be good for him to see you.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s up to you, Miss Bunch. My son can speak for himself.”

“He _has_ spoken for himself. By cutting off contact with you. And I have to respect his wishes.” 

Mrs. Plimpton’s face fell, sadness, with a hint of shame, painting her features. Rebecca couldn’t help but hurt for her. For the whole situation. 

Mr. Plimpton remained stoic, steadfast in his determination. “I don’t know what Nathaniel has told you or claimed about me…”

Rebecca scoffed and crossed her arms protectively across her chest, “I’ve heard enough.”

“...but children have wild imaginations.”

Rebecca’s eyes went wide again. “Wow. You need to leave our home. Right now. If you don’t, you’re trespassing. I don’t want him to even know you were here.” 

Mr. Plimpton glanced down at her left hand, which rested over her forearm. “Interesting, coming from someone who has clearly benefited from my hard work.”

Rebecca’s mouth dropped open and she tucked her hand in the pit of her elbow, hiding the ring. All the sympathy she may have felt for them, or at least for Mrs. Plimpton, vanished.

Mr. Plimpton’s mouth quirked up into a half-smile, satisfied in his ability to knock her off-kilter. He continued, “We are his _family_ and we will not be disrespected like this.”

“Respect? Wow.” She shook her head, indignant, every cell of her body filling with rage. “Thank god Nathaniel didn’t turn out like you,” she spat. “Maybe I’m not his blood but I love him. I love him so fucking much. And that’s why I can’t let you in. Until he tells me otherwise, he doesn’t want to see you. Nothing you say will make me change my mind.” 

Mrs. Plimpton touched her husband’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

Mr. Plimpton and Rebecca stared each other down, neither budging, until their collective attention was drawn to the living room window. Inside, Nathaniel chatted with Paula and Darryl, Emaline in one of his arms, a beer in his opposite hand. Emaline stretched out her arms, reaching for the bottle, and Nathaniel shifted his hold on her several times, attempting to keep it just out of her reach. The group laughed together at her persistence.

“Oh no. Oh no,” Rebecca whispered.

Mrs. Plimpton, gasped, “Oh my god. Is she…?”

“No, no, no. She’s not ours. Well, she’s mine. Kind of. It’s complicated. Oh god. This is a disaster. Listen, you need to go.”

Through the window, they all watched as Nathaniel set the bottle down on the coffee table, causing Emaline to shift her attention to grabbing at his tie. 

“That little girl adores your son,” Rebecca said, soft, to Mrs. Plimpton. 

Mrs. Plimpton cupped her hand over her mouth, her eyes shining with longing. 

Knowing Nathaniel would be furious with his father this close to Emaline, Rebecca’s protectiveness kicked in. With renewed boldness, she asserted, “You have to go. Now.”

Without another word, Mr. Plimpton turned on his heels, in a huff, and marched back to the black town car parked on the street. 

Mrs. Plimpton hesitated before following and said in a low voice, “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sorry too,” Rebecca whispered, “I really am.”

As soon as the car pulled away, Rebecca leaned back against the door and squeezed her eyes shut. Adrenaline coursed through her body, alerting every nerve ending, speeding up her heart rate. She gave herself a solid thirty seconds of breathing deeply to compose herself before returning to the party. 

Valencia intercepted her almost immediately in the entryway. “Everything ok?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

Valencia waved her hand. “Family drama. Trust me, I get it. I thought it was weird when you told me his parents weren’t allowed at the house. But now I see there’s some serious shit going on.”

Rebecca sighed. “You did the right thing, coming to me and not Nathaniel. Thank you.”

“Hey, there you are,” Nathaniel said from behind Valencia, holding up his phone to Rebecca. “I’ve been looking for you. A cancellation came through. September 7th. All we have to do is bring the deposit and sign an agreement.”

“Great,” Rebecca said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Just what we wanted. I’ll take care of it.”

*****

As the sun set, sending splashes of oranges and pinks through the kitchen windows, the party quieted down from a noisy din to a dull murmur as guests trickled out. In a formation similar to a post-wedding-ceremony receiving line, their friends showered Rebecca and Nathaniel with well wishes and hugs as they bid farewell. 

During all the commotion, Camila tore down the decorations, while Valencia dutifully bussed all the glassware strewn about the house and started a load in the dishwasher. When Rebecca finally closed the door behind the last guest, both she and Nathaniel breathing a collective sigh of relief, they were shocked to find the rest of their home almost cleaner than before the party.

“Wow,” Rebecca said, impressed, to Valencia. “You are such a professional. Thank you so much for everything. Seriously. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you.” 

Rebecca threw her arms around Valencia’s shoulders and Valencia fiercely hugged her back. “Anytime, love. And remember, this is your wedding gift. Don’t expect any cash from us.”

“Thanks, Valencia,” Nathaniel chimed in.

Valencia let go of Rebecca and looked him up and down. “You better be good to her. Lord knows she’s good to you. My eyes are on you, Nathaniel Plimpton _the third_.”

As Valencia made her graceful exit, Nathaniel’s brow furrowed in confusion. After the door clicked shut, he asked, “What was that about? And how can someone so tiny also be so terrifying?”

“She’s just protective, I guess.”

Nathaniel shrugged, accepting her answer. “So that was intense huh?”

“You have no idea. And thank god my mother is staying at a hotel. I couldn’t take much more of her pseudo-sexual schmoozing.”

Nathaniel chuckled nervously and the air between them crackled with everything left unsaid.

“I’m gonna, um,” she said, pointing toward the bedroom, “get out of this dress. It’s restricting my air flow after all that cake.”

She brushed past Nathaniel, her steps brisk and purposeful, and he suppressed the urge to grab her, hold her back, somehow smooth all the tension away.

Unsure if she wanted space, he lingered in the living room for several minutes, awkwardly pacing back and forth until he finally steeled himself enough to join her.

When he breached the threshold of the bedroom, Rebecca was staring at herself in the mirror above the dresser, still in her dress. But her eyes were unfocused, like she wasn’t actually seeing her own reflection, but something else entirely. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice shaky.

She jerked her head, snapping herself out of her trance, and met his clear, blue eyes in the mirror. She lifted the hair off the nape of her neck and he instinctively stepped toward her and unzipped her dress halfway down her back.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, not sure where to begin. “About White Josh. The ring.”

“Oh. I’m not mad,” she said, quiet, as she removed her diamond stud earrings and placed them gently in a black cushioned box. “It’s just...two years ago? Talk about jumping the gun,” she said, her voice filled with mirth, lightening the mood. 

He picked at a cuticle, avoiding her eyes. “Yea, it was a little misguided. To say the least. Impulsive. White Josh talked me out of it, actually.”

“Thank god. Can you imagine?” Rebecca let out a tiny laugh but it sounded forced, even to her own ears. She shimmied out of her dress and returned it to a hanger while Nathaniel stood frozen in place, watching her. Pointing to the dresser she asked, “Throw me a t-shirt?”

Nathaniel retrieved a soft, navy t-shirt from a drawer and tossed it to her. “I didn’t tell you because it’s a little embarrassing. How I acted. Plus, I could never afford that ring now. With how things are.” 

Rebecca pulled the t-shirt over her head and regarded him with sympathy. “Honey, don’t…”

“Sorry. I won’t go there again.” He swiped a hand over his face.

She spun the ring around her finger with her thumb. “I want to talk to you about the name thing. Can we clear the air?”

Nathaniel licked his lips and sucked in a breath, preparing to apologize.

“I’m sorry,” she said before he could say a word.

“What? You’re sorry? Why are you sorry?”

She swallowed and stared at the knot in his tie. “I need to use a feelings statement.”

He waited.

“I _feel_ threatened when you ask me to change my name because it makes me _feel_ like you want me to change myself for you. And that made me act defensive and dismissive of your feelings. That was wrong and I apologize.”

“No, I should apologize. You were right. I should know you well enough to know you don’t want to change your name.”

“I’m not done,” she said, holding up a hand in protest. “I’ve thought about it all day and I think I understand why it’s important to you.”

“You do?”

“Neither of us grew up with siblings. Both our parents are garbage or absent. You and I, we’ve never had a strong sense of family identity. But we have an opportunity for a fresh start. And sharing a name is emblematic of a family. I get it. I do.”

Nathaniel nodded and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” he murmured, “I don’t know what to say.”

He leaned in to kiss her, but she stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Wait. Don’t get too excited. I’m not saying _yes_. I’m saying I’ll think about it.”

He grinned. “That’s all I want.”

“Come here,” she said and hiked herself up on her tiptoes to throw her arms around his shoulders. 

He stooped down and wrapped his arms tight around her waist, crushing her body to his. “I love you,” he whispered as he nosed her hair. “I don’t want to argue about this. We’re a family now, no matter what.”

“Yep,” she said and pressed a kiss to his neck. “You’re stuck with me.”

A laughed rumbled in his chest. “I like being stuck with you.”

Rebecca bunny-hopped and clamped her legs around his rib cage and he quickly caught her with both hands under her ass. She giggled and peppered kisses all over his face while he staggered backward until his legs hit the bed. 

Pulling at his tie, she whined, “Why are you wearing so many clothes?”

He collapsed onto the bed, bringing her toppling down with him. “Why are you so damn cute, Mrs. Plimpton?” he joked, sneaking his hands under her t-shirt and skimming them up her sides.

“Stop it,” she laughed, grabbing both his wrists and pinning them above his head.

“Make me,” he challenged, his eyes dancing with mischief.

So she shut him up the best way she knew how, by taking his bottom lip between her teeth and making love to him until he could no longer formulate words. 

That night, Rebecca lay awake in bed for hours, staring into the dark, while intrusive thoughts rattled around inside her head.

Four months. As soon as they make the deposit, the clock will start. 

Four months to plan a wedding, to make a million decisions, to make choices that will affect the rest of their lives.

Four months of spending money they shouldn’t be, money they should be saving or putting into the business. 

And, worst of all, four months of opportunities for him to change his mind, to abandon her right when she’s ready to take another leap of faith. 

Four months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Email: heartbashfic@gmail.com
> 
> Art credit to: @pictureofsoph1sticatedgrace


	3. Mitigating Circumstances

__

_Mitigating Circumstances: Noun. 1. (law) Those facts which do not constitute a justification or excuse for an offense but which may be considered as reasons for reducing the degree of blame._

**Three Months Later…**

9:07AM. Bright and early at _Bunch & Plimpton & Associates_. Seven minutes after the usual time Rebecca would, like clockwork, call everyone into her office for the morning huddle. Her daily holler had become a comforting routine and would often change depending on her mood.

Happy.

_Alright, lovelies, I want to see all your beautiful faces right now!_

Playful.

_You do NOT have five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes to get your butts in here! ___

Not-so-playful.

_Get your asses in my office now, before I lose it!_

But today, there was nothing but silence. 

Nathaniel checked his watch for the third time, then peered out into the common area of the office, where George was stirring his morning coffee. Nathaniel raised his eyebrow, questioning, and George gave a small shrug back in response.

Enough’s enough. He closed his laptop and brushed past George, hesistating just outside Rebecca’s office. For a moment he simply observed her as she sat statue-still in her chair, staring blankly at a piece of heavy stock paper he recognized instantly, even from the back, as their wedding invitation. He closed the distance and softly knocked on her open door, announcing his presence. 

“Hey, you ok?”

Rebecca flinched at his voice and quickly put the card face down on the desk, as if it were a big secret that they were going to be married a month from today. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Are we having a huddle?”

“Right. Of course. Sorry, I just, um, got lost in thought, I guess.” She swallowed hard and stood, but her legs wobbled beneath her, causing her to quickly brace herself with both hands on the desktop.

“Rebecca?”

“Ah, these heels are so high, what was I thinking?” she asked rhetorically, with a false laugh, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. Nathaniel glance down at her feet, at the black pumps he had seen her wear a thousand times. 

“Stop staring at me and get everyone together,” she insisted, shooing him with a wave of her hand.

“Everyone huddle up!” Nathaniel hollered, keeping one watchful eye on her.

“Thanks,” Rebecca said quietly behind him.

Paula, George, and Darryl obediently filed into Rebecca’s office. All three of them automatically looked to Rebecca, but, when her gaze remained fixated on the carpet, Nathaniel swiftly took control of the meeting.

“Paula, update on the Donelly case. Go.”

“Oh,” Paula said, glancing back and forth between Rebecca to Nathaniel, “She’s getting a settlement. Pay out’s pretty decent, actually. Better than we anticipated. Two-hundred-fifty thousand.” 

“Great.”

“That’s it?”

“What?”

“This is a big win for us. Rebecca usually says something nice when we have good news.”

“Well, I’m not Rebecca.”

“Why isn’t Rebecca leading the meeting?” George chimed in.

“Everyone settle down. Need I remind you I’m a partner here too? An equal partner? I can run the meetings if I want.”

“Ok then,” Paula said, her eyes ping-ponging back to Rebecca. But she remained silent and avoided eye contact, her mind clearly not engaged in the meeting.

“Anyone else have any updates?”

Darryl and George, taken aback by Nathaniel’s curt handling of the meeting, didn’t speak up.

“No? Alright, back to work,” Nathaniel concluded.

Darryl and George scurried away, but Paula wasn’t so easily dismissed. 

“Cookie, are you feeling ok? You look pale,” Paula said, stepping forward and putting the back of her hand to Rebecca’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Maybe I am coming down with something,” Rebecca replied, absently rubbing her hand over her stomach. “I’m a little queasy.”

“Why don’t you go home, sweetie,” Paula suggested. 

“But we carpooled.”

“I can drive him home at the end of the day. Don’t worry about that.”

“Is that ok?” Rebecca asked Nathaniel.

Nathaniel tamped down his instinct to object. “Of course. Go home and relax. I can take care of things here.”

“Thanks.” Rebecca grabbed her purse that hung from the corner coat rack and beelined for the front door, leaving Nathaniel and Paula in her wake, both their eyes carefully following her every step.

Once she was out of earshot, Nathaniel broke the silence. “She seemed fine before work this morning. Didn’t seem sick at all.”

“Yea, I talked to her first thing this morning. She was her usual, bubbly self. We talked about the wedding being a month away.” Paula thought for a moment and her eyes widened. “Wait, you don’t think…?”

“What?”

Paula snapped her fingers. “Never mind. She had her period two weeks ago.”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “Can you please stop tracking my girlfriend’s periods? Weren’t you two supposed to discuss boundaries at some point?”

“Fiancée, not girlfriend,” Paula corrected, pointing at him.

“Old habits. And don’t deflect.”

“I’m not _tracking_ them, per se. We cycle together, so I always know when she has it. Anyway, it’s what friends do.”

“Do they?”

“Maybe if you weren’t getting married so quickly you would have time to get used to saying fiancée.”

Nathaniel sighed. “Truce?”

Paula smirked and said, “See you at five to chauffeur you home, boss,” over her shoulder as she walked back to her office.

Throughout the day, in between meetings and in moments of downtime, Nathaniel texted Rebecca, but received no response.

Rebecca  
  
**Wed, Aug 7,** 11:17 AM  
Everything ok? Are you resting?  
**Wed, Aug 7,** 1:01 PM  
How are you doing? Do you need anything?  
**Wed, Aug 7,** 3:35 PM  
Feeling any better? Need me to pick up anything on the way home?  


With each unanswered message, his concern ratcheted up another notch, his productivity steeply declining with each hour that passed. Focus was not usually an issue for him and, if she would just answer one damn text, he could get some work done. He checked his phone for the thousandth time and he expelled an exasperated sigh just as Paula walked past his office.

“Alright, let’s go,” she said, definitive. 

“Huh? It’s four o’clock.” 

“You’ve been glued to your phone all day. Our meetings are done for the day. Let me drop you off so you can check on our girl.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it, knowing she was right. There was no point in fighting it. Stuffing his phone in his pocket with defeat, he swiftly followed Paula out, eager to get home. 

In the Paula’s car, Nathaniel beat his thumbs nervously against his thighs, unsure what to do with his hands. 

“What kind of car is this?” Nathaniel asked, with a hint of derision, looking around the interior.

“Corolla. Something wrong with this car?”

“Not...necessarily.”

“Listen, once you start paying me more, _boss_ , then I’ll upgrade my car.”

“That’s fair.”

“So, you excited for the big day?” Paula offered as small talk. 

“Of course.”

“Is someone walking her down the aisle? I’ve been meaning to ask her, but I know it’s a bit of a touchy subject with her dad passing.”

Nathaniel scratched at his forehead. “Yea, uh, Darryl’s going to do it. It’s funny, when she asked him, she asked me to be there as an emotional buffer. You can probably imagine how he reacted,” he said with a chuckle. 

“Oh, I can,” Paula laughed. “By the way, I looked online. The venue is gorgeous.”

“Thanks. Actually, it has some sentimental value. My grandparents were married at that beach club. We also used it for every _Plimpton & Plimpton_ special event. Dropped my name to get that cancellation date.”

“Back up. You’re saying _you’re_ sentimental about something?”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he joked.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Keeping her eyes straight ahead on the road, Paula said, in a more solemn tone, “You realize that if you mess up this day for her, I will murder you with my bare hands, correct?”

“Uh, um, what? Excuse me?” he stammered, taken back by the abrupt turn in conversation.

“You better be not one millisecond late. Not one hair out of place. Tie perfectly straight. Those vows better have me blubbering like a baby. Got it?”

“Paula,” he objected.

“I’m serious, buddy.”

“Have I ever, once, given you any reason to doubt me?”

Paula’s eyes darted to him for a split second, then back to the road. “Well, no, I guess not.”

“You don’t have a monopoly on loving Rebecca, you know.” 

That gave her pause. “I know.”

“I think I’ve more than proven myself to you. I admit I haven’t always been the nicest guy, but I’m not a monster. And I’m not Josh. I’m not going to leave her on our wedding day. Give me a little credit.”

Paula sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just...I think of her like a daughter. Just wait. When Em grows up, you’ll understand. You’ll want to protect her from everything.”

“I already want to protect her from everything,” he murmured.

When they pulled into the driveway, he was relieved to see their car parked in its usual spot, signalling that she made it home safely. Paula threw the car in park and patted Nathaniel’s knee. With as much drama as she could muster, she said, “You’re going to make a great son-in-law.”

“Stop. Don’t make a fuss,” Nathaniel chuckled and opened the car door to escape. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Tell her I hope she feels better!” Paula called out just before he shut the door.

He gave her a thumbs up through the passenger window in acknowledgement. 

When he entered the house, he expected to find Rebecca napping, which would easily explain her radio silence during the day. However, much to his confusion, she was sitting on the couch in the living room, her head buried in her hands. All of their wedding invitations were spread out haphazardly in front of her on the coffee table.

As he approached, she pulled her hands away from her face to reveal a pair of bloodshot eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she rasped. 

“What’s going on?”

“I didn’t send out the invitations.” 

“What?” 

“I didn’t...I didn’t send them.” Rebecca hugged her middle and looked up at him with naked fear in her eyes.

Seeing her so distraught, her expression crumpled up in agony, knocked the wind right out of him. Paula had been right all along. It was too fast. There was too much to plan in too little time. He had asked her if he could pitch in more, but she always shrugged him off, insisting she was taking care of things. Why didn’t he push the issue? Why didn’t he ask more questions? How could he not realize sooner how this affecting her? 

Nathaniel sat down on the couch beside her and rubbed her back, attempting to soothe her. “Hey, don’t get upset. It’s ok. There’s still time. Why don’t you let me help more with the planning? I told you I can do more.”

The whole time Nathaniel spoke, Rebecca shook her head, silently disagreeing.

“No, we can’t send them.”

“Sure we can. It’s not that many people and we’ve already told everyone the date -”

“No we can’t. Because I never booked the venue. Or the caterer. Or anything I said I did.” Rebecca let out a shaky breath and a tear leaked from the corner of her eye. 

Nathaniel’s brain could barely comprehend what he heard. His head was spinning and his mouth dropped open of its own accord. “What? What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t make the deposits. I didn’t book the venue. We lost the date,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word.

He removed his hand from her back, his stomach dropping so hard he worried it must bust through the floor. “Why? What are you saying? Rebecca, that’s where my grandparents were married.”

“I know. I know,” she cried, covering her face with both her hands. 

Nathaniel pulled at the collar of his shirt, suddenly burning up. Anger bubbled up inside of him as his mind raced, thinking back over the past few months.

“You lied,” he whispered, the realization crashing over him, “You lied right to my face. Over and over.” 

He rose from the couch, needing to put distance between them, and marched into their bedroom, tugging off his suit jacket along the way. Rebecca sprang up after him, following a few paces behind, tears running down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Nathaniel unknotted his tie, trying to ignore her and focus on changing out of his clothes.

“What are you doing?” 

“I need to get out of here. I need space.” 

“No, no. Nathaniel, please don’t leave. We can talk about this.” Rebecca pulled on his arm and he yanked it out of her grasp. 

“I can’t even look at you right now. I gotta go for a run or something.”

“Nathaniel, please.”

Words flew out of his mouth before he could filter them, the bitterness oozing out of every syllable, “I can’t believe you’ve been lying to me. For months! You kept saying you were taking care of things and I believed you. How can I ever trust you now? I can’t believe I -”

“Use a feelings statement,” she pleaded.

“I don’t want to use a fucking feelings statement!” he said, louder than intended.

Rebecca took a step back, her eyes widening.

He pulled a t-shirt over his head. “Here’s a feelings statement. I feel like you just reached into my chest, pulled out my heart, spit on it, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it. There’s your feelings statement.”

Nathaniel marched toward the front door and Rebecca ran after him, wedging herself between him and his goal.

“Get out of the way.”

“Please just stay and we’ll talk.”

“Fine, let’s talk. You know what’s funny? Not ha-ha funny, but sad funny? You said you were traumatized by Josh leaving you at the altar. And I’ve been sensitive to that. I really have. I mean, I’ve been threatened more times by your friends than I care to recount. Yet, here we are, in a relationship for _years_ , and you turn around and sabotage our entire wedding. How could you do this to me? Are you some kind of sociopath?”

Rebecca made no verbal rebuttal, but her eyes begged him to stay.

“I said I need space. Now.”

She wiped her eyes and moved away from the door, letting him go. He lunged for the handle and opened the door but stopped short of leaving. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing what he needed to tell her, what he had to give her, but hating it with every fiber of his being. 

Through gritted teeth, he said, “Rebecca, I always said I would never blindside you. And I’m not leaving-leaving. I will be back in an hour. I promise. But you need to know that we are _not_ good right now. You understand?”

She nodded through her tears and he left in a huff, slamming the door behind him.

The hot, summer air assaulted him as soon as he breached the threshold, burning his lungs. But he didn’t care. He immediately broke into a run without stretching, because fuck it.

He shoved his ear buds, which he had quickly grabbed on the way out, into his ears and cranked up the volume on a 90s alternative playlist, which was filled with songs that made him feel cool during his formative teenage years - Nine Inch Nails, Nirvana, Rage Against the Machine.

He ran as quickly as his legs would take him, sickly reveling in the pain of his muscles tearing to accommodate to his pace. Since they opened _B &P_, he had slacked off from his exercise routine due to their long work hours. Normally, the rhythmic, steady stomp on the pavement helped quiet his thoughts, but his mind continued to race at full speed.

 _She doesn’t want to marry you_ is the thought he kept looping back to, each echo feeling like a punch to his gut. What other explanation could there be for what just happened? 

Did he do something wrong? Did he miss the signs? Maybe there were red flags he turned a blind eye to? 

Less than a month ago, they bought wedding bands. Matching white gold. Simple. No frills, Nathaniel insisted. They each gave Moshe something to engrave on the inside of the other’s ring. A surprise to be revealed on the big day. Rebecca was giddy over the idea, swept up in the romance of the gesture.

Less than a week ago, they went to the LA County Clerk for the marriage license. Just as they were about to sign the paperwork, Rebecca brandished a pen from her purse, exclaiming with a giggle, “The pen that started it all!” Standing there with her, jotting their signatures side-by-side, while he grinned like an idiot, made him feel like the final puzzle piece of his life finally clicked into place.

Now, it felt like she upturned the entire table, littering the pieces all over the floor. 

His chest constricted thinking about how much he had invested in her, in their relationship. Three years. A business. His love. His trust. All his secrets, his deepest hopes and fears. His whole goddamn life. Every aspect of his life was twisted up with hers. There was no part of his life that wasn’t touched by her in some way.

His watch vibrated. 5 miles. He came to a full stop and doubled over, resting his hands on his upper thighs. His t-shirt clung to his body, drenched in sweat, and his legs ached from effort. The oppressive heat was suffocating and he struggled to catch his breath, already feeling the beginnings of sunburn stinging his face.

When he straightened up and finally took in his surroundings, he realized he was standing across the street from Rebecca’s old apartment. The one she shared with Heather.

“Fuck,” he said out loud to no one. 

Even when he tried to get away from her, he couldn’t.

He sighed and turned around, his hands resting on his hips, contemplating what to do next.

He knew he had to go home. Face her. He tilted his watch and tapped on his notifications. 

No texts. No calls. She had listened to him, gave him his space.

He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “Fuckkk,” he said again to the sky, this time drawing the word out longer.

Ignoring the pain shooting up his legs, he picked up running again, in some small way believing it might provide a release.

When he finally made it home, he stood on the front porch for several minutes, catching his breath, the exhaustion hitting him like a freight train. The physical punishment did nothing to quiet his cacophony of emotions, still feeling just as hurt and confused as when he left. He desperately tried to push away all the howling fears of how their next conversation would go. 

The one thing he knew for certain is he wanted an explanation - any explanation, no matter what it was - for what she did. 

His watch vibrated. 10 miles. About an hour and a half since he left. 

Shower. He would take a shower first, he decided, let the warm water calm him, give himself a few minutes to collect his thoughts, before talking to her. 

He pulled the earbuds from his ears and gathered up his courage, steeling himself, and threw open the door. 

He didn’t see Rebecca, at first, but could hear her immediately. Specifically, her breathing. 

Wheezing. Gasping. Struggling for air. 

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. All his anger and frustration flew out of his head in an instant, his instincts taking over, as his legs propelled him forward, searching for her. He followed the sounds of her breath, tossing his phone, still connected to the ear buds, into a heap on the floor, which clattered against the hardwood of the entryway. 

He found her in seconds, back on the couch in front of the jumbled mess of invitations. In one swipe, he pushed them off the table, scattering them onto the floor. With the space cleared, he parked himself directly in front of her, his eyes darting all over her body, searching fruitlessly for the source of her discomfort. 

Rebecca gripped her chest with her right hand as she panted frantically, her fingers bunching up the fabric of her t-shirt. 

“Rebecca? What’s wrong?”

She continued to hyperventilate, ignoring him, her eyes fuzzy, completely disconnected. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice a little more frantic. 

The fingers clutching her shirt flexed and then formed a tiny fist, while her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She still wasn’t hearing him, seeing him, registering his presence at all.

“Rebecca!” he said, more urgent, his voice rising in pitch. “Hey!” 

As if waking up from a nightmare with a brutal jerk, she snapped to attention, her eyes flickering, blinking fast, until finally focusing on him. Her rapid breathing came even quicker, her eyes filling with dread. She managed to gasp, “I can’t,” in between breaths.

“Can’t what? You can’t breathe? Shit. Oh my god. What is it? Talk to me,” he begged. 

Then it hit him. 

Oh. Oh shit.

“Are you having a panic attack?”

She nodded and her shoulders slumped a bit, in a small show of relief. 

In the three years with Rebecca, he had witnessed her have a panic attack only one time. The day her father died. He found her in the bathroom, hunched over the sink. And he promptly freaked out along with her, only exacerbating the attack. After the incident they had a long talk about proper protocol for situations like panic attacks and dissociative episodes, and how to diffuse the situation rather than escalating it.

“Ok,” he said, with determination, “look at me.” Rebecca’s worried eyes met his. “You’re going to be ok.”

She shook her head. _No._ A sob hiccupped from her throat.

He grabbed both her wrists and rested her hands on his chest. “You feel how I’m breathing?”

She said nothing but stared into his eyes with an alarming intensity.

“Try to breathe with me.”

He inhaled deeply, counted to four in his head, and then slowly exhaled. With painfully noticeable effort, she tried to match him, but failed. 

“Again.”

Inhale, two, three, four.

Exhale, two, three, four.

Her hands trembled in his. As she fought for control, tears flowed down her face, but she paid them no mind, maintaining her fierce, silent eye contact with him. 

He forced a reassuring smile. “Keep going. You’re ok,” he murmured.

Nathaniel continued to breathe in a steady cadence. The pace was excruciating, as if he were dragging her through quicksand. But he would never let go. Despite his outwardly calm appearance, he hung on her every move, his heart skipping each time her breath caught in her throat. 

Inhale, two, three, four.

Exhale, two, three, four.

For several minutes, the only sound in the room was their breaths commingling, slowing together. The emotional upheaval made the whole ordeal feel like hours had passed, though rationally he knew it had lasted maybe fifteen minutes at most.

When her hands finally stopped shaking, he released them and cupped both her cheeks with his palms. “You’re almost there,” he whispered.

Her hands slid down from his chest like dead weight into her lap. Nathaniel moved next to her on the couch and gathered her into his arms, pulling her close.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled into his shirt, when she finally found her voice.

“God, you scared me,” he replied, his voice full of relief. 

“Sorry.”

He rubbed her arm, while her head rested, heavy, on his shoulder. As he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, he contemplated how surreal it was that less than hour ago he was seething with hurt, pain, and anger. Now, all he wanted to do was comfort her, hold her. Such was life with Rebecca. Unpredictable. Never dull. 

“Are you leaving me?” she asked, her voice almost childlike in its uncertainty, its meekness.

“No.”

“You’re mad.”

“Of course I’m mad,” he said, but without a trace of anger. “How could I _not_ be mad?”

Rebecca smelled his shirt. “Wow, you’re sweaty,” she observed and he couldn’t help but laugh. She pulled away to look at his face, “Do you want to take a bath?”

Although he was still upset, and still longed for answers, his physical and emotional exhaustion won out and he agreed. 

Rebecca undressed with no flourish, none of her usual gusto, as the tub filled with scalding hot water. Nathaniel grabbed a washcloth from the sink and wet it with water from the faucet while Rebecca arranged her hair into a sloppy ponytail. 

“Come here,” he said and gently grabbed her arm. She stood in front of him, tilting her head to meet his gaze, her eyes filled with all the vulnerability of someone unsure where they stand with the person they love most. Nathaniel wiped her face clean, staining the washcloth with black and beige blotches of makeup. 

“I love you,” she said, as an offering, a plea.

His hand stilled for a moment. “I know.”

When he was satisfied with his handiwork, he tossed the washcloth into the sink and stripped off his own clothes. Rebecca shut off the faucet and sank carefully into the hot water, Nathaniel following, positioning himself behind her. 

For a few minutes, he let himself relax, closing his eyes and letting the hot water envelope and soothe his weary muscles. Rebecca settled back against his chest and ran her fingers down his arm until she tangled her fingers with his. 

“I’m sorry, Nathaniel,” she said, barely audible. “I really am.”

“What happened?” he asked, softly, his mouth grazing her ear. “Why did you lie to me?”

Rebecca swallowed hard. “I had a dream the night before I was supposed to make the deposit at the beach club. A nightmare. I dreamed I was back in Malibu, where I was supposed to marry Josh. Except it was our wedding. And I saw you, in the distance. You saw me, standing at the altar in my wedding dress, then turned around and walked away. And I knew, deep in my gut, you were leaving forever. I ran to the edge of the cliff. Again. But, this time, I jumped.”

“Rebecca,” he murmured, and squeezed her fingers. 

“The next day, I tried to forget the dream. I wrote out the check. I drove to the venue. Then I sat in the parking lot for an hour. Maybe more. I just couldn’t do it. When they called me the next day, I panicked and told them we didn’t want the date. So, of course, once we lost it, I couldn’t book any of the other stuff. Everything snowballed. And you wanted that venue so bad, I didn’t have the heart to tell you.” 

He wanted to be mad, he really did, but, at the same time, he could feel the remorse oozing out of her, the self-hatred. No one could ever punish her more than she would punish herself.

“We’re not getting married,” he said with finality, to hear the words out loud, to face the reality.

“Not on September 7th.”

He bit his lip and forced himself to ask the one question he feared the answer most. “Do you still want to marry me?”

“Yes, I do,” she said, thoughtful. “That’s the part that kills me. I really do. I mean, we’re practically married already.”

“True,” he agreed and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder.

“And it’s not only the romantic gesture part of it, though, of course, I want the whole world to acknowledge and celebrate our undying love.”

That made him crack a smile.

She went on, “But, I think about the practicalities too. Did you know at some hospitals they deny visitation if you’re not a family member? If I’m ever not in my right mind, god forbid, I need you to advocate for me.”

“And tax advantages,” he joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Right. And if your parents kick the bucket and you’re still in the will, I want to collect on that.”

“I’m probably not, but point taken.”

“I think...since the wedding was the triggering event of my breakdown, it’s stirring up all these feelings. Anxiety.”

“I don’t want the wedding to make you feel that way.”

Rebecca groaned and tilted her head back on his shoulder. “Oh god, how am I going to face everyone?”

“We don’t have to tell anyone why we’re postponing.”

“We can still book the venue if we’re willing to wait, right? Or maybe another cancellation will come up?”

He considered this for moment. He found it hard to imagine waiting. For that matter, he found it hard to imagine any wedding that wasn’t the one they had planned a month away from today. 

“Maybe we should take a break.”

She shifted in the tub, craning her neck to see his face, causing the water to slosh around them.

“A break from us?”

“No, no. Just no more wedding planning, or wedding talk, for a bit.”

“Oh ok,” she agreed, with some hesitation. She glanced into their bedroom through the bathroom door, staring at the bed with longing. “I’m so tired.”

Something they could both agree on. “Ok, let’s go to bed.”

*****

Of course everyone thought they were breaking up. You don’t postpone a wedding, or cancel with no future date, unless something is wrong. With Rebecca shame-spiraling, and given his natural talent for shutting down conversations, Nathaniel did the heavy lifting on informing their guests.

Work was tense, to say the least. The called-off wedding lingered over every conversation, each of their employees desperately wanting to ask what happened, but Nathaniel’s warning stare keeping them from uttering a word. 

A week passed. Two weeks. 

As promised, they didn’t discuss the wedding and attempted to return to normalcy, finding comfort in their old routines. 

After work on a Thursday, during Rebecca’s weekly appointment with Dr. Akopian, Nathaniel picked up the wedding bands from Moshe. When he got home, he set the twin boxes down on a dresser side-by-side, and it made his heart ache. 

Was it supposed to be this hard? 

His phone buzzed.

Chris  
  
**Thu, Aug 22,** 6:17 PM  
Just listened to your voicemail. Sorry about the wedding. Hopefully you can find another date. I’ve gotta see Pimpin' Plimpton get locked down in person!  


Nathaniel smiled at the message, at the stupid nickname that would apparently haunt him forever.

His mind drifted to Chris’s wedding. Rebecca stunning in sapphire blue. The smell of redwoods. Swaying to _The Way You Look Tonight_. Singing to her on the dance floor while she looked up at him with dreams in her eyes. 

He remembered Chris and his wife, so effortless that day, so carefree. And it gave him an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the final chapter of this series (I think)... _Partnership_
> 
> Email: heartbashfic@gmail.com
> 
> Art credit to: @pictureofsoph1sticatedgrace


	4. Partnership

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say a great marriage is not when a perfect couple comes together. It is when an imperfect couple learns to enjoy their differences.

__

_Partnership: A voluntary contract between two or more competent persons to place their money, effects, labor, and skill, or some or all of them, in lawful commerce or business, with the understanding that there shall be a proportional sharing of the profits and losses between them._

September 8. Just an ordinary day. No reason to have any expectations or hopes about this day. Because Nathaniel specifically asked Rebecca _not_ to make a fuss for his birthday. (He never liked a fuss, and birthdays were the ultimate excuse to make a fuss.) Plus, Nathaniel secretly made his own arrangements for the day, arrangements he hoped Rebecca would agree to, which involved a _quiet_ , albeit significant, day for just the two of them. At least, that’s what he thought when he woke up the morning of his thirty-fourth birthday.

The day prior, the day they were supposed to be married at the beach club, came and went without any major emotional upheaval. The wedding was merely postponed, after all, not canceled entirely. Though they couldn’t escape a nagging discomfort lingering in the space between them over the lack of a clear path forward. 

After Rebecca’s confession, amidst all the calls to guests about the postponement, Nathaniel had contacted the beach club about rescheduling. The event coordinator, a woman with a high-pitched voice who was cheerfully snippy with him, had not been very amenable to the request, clearly rebuffed by Rebecca’s rejection of their offer of the coveted cancellation date. _A very generous offer,_ she reprimanded. No more special consideration for him, or his family name. Get to the back of the line, just like everyone else. The next opening, she announced with a little too much schadenfreude for his liking, was March 2021. He hung up without booking date.

Thus, on the morning of his birthday, the status of their future remained unclear. 

The mattress shifting to his right roused him out of sleep, and it took several seconds for his eyes to adjust to the sight of Rebecca, staring up at him, a bright purple party hat affixed to her head. The giggling started before his eyes were even fully open and continued until she came into clear focus. 

“Hi honey,” she purred.

“Hmmm. You look different,” he murmured, rubbing the corner of his eye.

“Do I? Huh,” she said with mock confusion. The truth was she looked the same as any other morning, sporting her maroon Harvard t-shirt without a stitch of makeup, her hair wild with bed head, but she had a twinkle of excitement in her eyes that was magnetic, cute as hell.

“It suits you.” 

“Happy birthday.” She army crawled up the bed and pecked him on the lips.

“Thank you,” he said and combed his fingers through her unkempt hair. 

“I know you said you didn’t want anything big, but they insisted,” she said, nodding over her shoulder. 

In the corner of the bedroom, Ruth Gator Ginsberg, Termingator, and stuffed tiger Rebecca all donned identical party hats. Nathaniel, so tickled at the sheer absurdity of this tableau, involuntarily dissolved into laughter. 

“You all shouldn’t have,” he said to their plush, makeshift menagerie. 

Rebecca removed the party hat, wincing at at how the elastic string pulled at her hair, and discarded it onto the night table. “What _do_ you want to do today anyway?” she asked, draping herself back over his chest, absently tracing her fingers over his collarbone. “We have to do _something_.” 

Nathaniel’s heart began to race. “I do, um, have one idea.”

“Oh?” Rebecca rested her chin on his chest and gazed up at him in that loving way that made his breath catch in his throat. 

“There’s something I would love to do today, but only if it’s ok with you.”

“Oooh,” Rebecca cooed, “Is it a sex thing?” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Anything you want on your special day.”

He let out a breathy chuckle and cleared his throat. “No, um, not a sex thing.” He inhaled, deep, and exhaled, “Do you want to get married today?”

Rebecca raised her head from his chest and searched his face in confusion, an adorable crinkle forming at the top of her nose. “What do you mean?”

“Judge Chen owes me a favor. She connected me with the Commissioner of Civil Marriages yesterday. We could get married, legally speaking, today at two o’clock,” he explained, rubbing his fingers up and down her arm. 

“Uh, wow,” Rebecca said, in shock, nodding slowly as she processed the information.

“Only if you want to, of course.”

“But you wanted to get married at the beach club. And you wanted that fancy wine from the local vineyard. And you wanted…”

“Here’s what I want,” he interrupted, lovingly palming the back of her head. “I want no more nightmares. No more panic attacks. No more uncertainty. I want to marry you. That’s it.”

Rebecca’s whole face softened and she worried her lower lip with her teeth. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. And no pressure but I already paid the Commissioner five hundred bucks for her trouble.”

“Wow, you are never going to learn the value of money, are you?” 

Ignoring her jab, he went on, “We have the license and the rings. We only need one witness. The beach club isn’t going anywhere. If we want to have a big, blow-out wedding someday, we still can.” 

He realized it was sudden, a lot to spring on her first thing in the morning. But the more he thought about a courthouse wedding, the more it made complete sense. Their attempts to plan a traditional wedding stirred up a classic Rebecca anxiety cocktail: two parts anticipation, two parts insecurity, one part worried looping thoughts. If he could alleviate any of that stress, shield her from those endless internalized worst-case scenarios and irrational fears, pour the whole damn concoction down the drain, he was willing to do it. 

“So, what do you think?” he asked, timid, sucking in a nervous breath and holding it.

A luminous smile blossomed at her lips and traveled all the way up to her eyes until her entire face glowed with happiness. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Really?”

“Yes! Let’s do it. Let’s get married!” she squealed and leapt to her knees, slinging one over his hips to straddle him. She crushed her lips to his with fervor, pressing him down into the pillow, holding his face in place between both her hands. 

They say that love is friendship caught fire.

“Hmmm,” he moaned against her lips, delighted by her enthusiasm, and he enveloped her in his arms, hugging her tight to his chest. 

When Rebecca finally came up for air, her entire being vibrated with energy. “We only have a few hours! I need to get ready! No wait, I need to call Paula! No, I need to -”

“Slow down. One thing at a time,” he soothed, rubbing both his hands up and down her thighs. “Call Paula and see if she can be our witness. Then we’ll go from there.”

Rebecca leaned over and grabbed her phone off the night table. “Shouldn’t we invite Darryl too? He would be devastated if he missed it. And if my Matron of Honor is our witness, don’t you want your Best Man there too?”

Ten seconds in and Rebecca had already mentally invited more people than he hoped to see for the entire day. 

“Plus, then Em will be there,” Rebecca added in a sing-song voice, not even trying to hide her blatant attempt to use the child, and his weakness for her, to get her way.

“Fine, they can come,” he agreed with an air of exasperation. 

Rebecca scrambled off the bed, nearly falling over as she untangled herself from the sheets. “Let’s divide and conquer,” she said, triumphant, already scrolling through her contacts. “I’ll call Paula. You call WhiJo.”

“Ok,” he agreed and she bounded into the hallway, her phone pressed to her ear.

Nathaniel had already told White Josh about his idea, so the call was no surprise. (It was one of the very few Rebecca-related ideas White Josh supported without reservation.) He assured Nathaniel the whole family would be there. _With bells on_ he heard Darryl add in the background. When he hung up, he heard Rebecca’s animated voice echoing down the hallway while she spoke to Paula, her happiness palpable, bouncing wildly off the walls. In that moment, he knew he made the right decision. 

“Paula is in,” she declared when she re-entered the bedroom, clutching the phone to her chest.

“White Josh and crew are in.”

Rebecca’s eyes darted to the closet as she bounced on her heels. “I want to wear my dress. Would it be weird if I wore my dress?”

“You should absolutely wear your dress, if that’s what you want.”

“Are you going to wear your tux?”

He blew a raspberry with his lips as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. “Of course I am. This is my wedding day. What am I, a farmer?”

*****

As they showered and primped and groomed in preparation, the importance of the day began to fully sink in, the hefty weight of it settling square on his chest. At the engagement party, every married couple waxed poetic on how the day flies by. You have to savor every moment, they said. Don’t forget to eat your own cake, they said. And while he had rolled his eyes at the platitudes, he now realized how true it was. Their ceremony was quickly approaching and he didn’t want the day to slip through his fingers. He promised his reflection, as he straightened his bowtie in the dresser mirror, that he would slow down, try to take stock of each precious moment before it passed.

“Are you ready?” Rebecca asked, her voice, muffled by the bathroom door, pulling him out of his reverie. 

“Yea,” he called back, stepping away from the dresser, his slick palms rhythmically clenching and unclenching.

He couldn’t help but remember the newly engaged Rebecca from when they first met, when she floated around the office showing off her ring and making romantic declarations about the wedding to the man of her dreams. It made him half-expect her to swing open the door and make a grand entrance. Maybe sing an off-key trumpet fanfare or mime dramatic hand gestures. In his mind’s eye, he saw a poofy ball gown with a barely manageable skirt, adorned with glitter and beading and all the glitz of her girlhood dreams. 

What happened next defied all his expectations but knocked him off his feet all the same.

The door opened slowly and she walked out, steady and even, her eyes locked on his, a surprising amount of shyness gracing her features. Her dress was unlike anything he could have imagined. It had a simple lace bodice that flared out minimally at her hips, with delicate, sheer lace cap sleeves and a subtle sweetheart neckline. Her makeup was minimal, some mascara and muted eyeshadow, her lips kissed by a hint of gloss. Dark, loose curls of hair cascaded just past her shoulder, the way she wore it everyday, except one side was pulled back and loosely pinned. No veil, no glamour, no glitter. Just her.

Suddenly his mouth went dry. “Wow,” he rasped, “You look…”

_Gorgeous. Stunning. Enchanting._

“Beautiful. Just insanely beautiful.” 

The corners of her mouth quirked up into a coy, half-smile at his reaction. “Yea?” she exhaled.

They say nothing can dim the light that shines from within.

He put his hand over his heart. “I can barely breathe.” 

“I’m so...happy,” she said, like a revelation, her voice catching on the last word. 

“Me too.”

“And I don’t mean just today.”

“Me too.” 

For a beat he openly stared at her, his eyes slowly journeying from the lacy hem of the dress, caressing over the curves of her body, up to her soft, expressive face. 

“What?”

“Sorry. I just...I want to remember every single detail of this moment. I never want to forget any of this.” He wished he could take a mental snapshot, memorize it, store it in his heart forever.

“Well, when you’re done, there is one stop I want to make before we get hitched.”

*****

En route to the County Clerk in East Los Angeles, Nathaniel and Rebecca searched for a florist open on a Sunday. All the mom-and-pop shops appeared to be closed, so they ended up at a Whole Foods, their formal attire earning some curious looks from other patrons. At first, Rebecca sought out a bouquet of any kind of white flower, which seemed apropos for the occasion, but then a bundle hydrangeas in a striking shade of bluish-purple caught her eye. A laminated signed next to the bin read: 

_Hydrangeas: Symbolizes heartfelt emotion. Often used to express gratitude for being understood._

Sold.

When they arrived, their entire crew awaited them in the parking lot - Paula, Darryl, and White Josh, holding a squirming Emaline in his arms. The sight of the building was decidedly underwhelming for the occasion: one story, all windows, a reddish Spanish-style clay roof, and a prominent flagpole front-and-center displaying the ol’ red-white-and-blue just above the California state grizzly. 

Paula, in her plum purple, floor-length Matron of Honor dress, cupped her hand over her mouth as they approached, her eyes shining with emotion. “Oh sweetie,” she said, taking Rebecca’s hand, “You look just perfect.”

Emaline, dressed in her champagne-colored, ruffled flower girl dress, stilled her movements, going wide-eyed at Rebecca and Nathaniel’s unusual appearance. 

“Oh, you two look so amazing. I just can’t!” Darryl exclaimed, making an abrupt about-face, wiping at his eyes.

“He cried the whole way here,” White Josh said, with feigned indifference to the whole situation. Emaline snapped back to attention and reached both her arms out toward Nathaniel, making grabby hands. White Josh wrangled her back to his chest and said, “Later, munchkin. Uncle Nat’s a little busy right now.” She pouted her lips in response.

“Darryl, would you like to hold the rings?” Nathaniel asked, fishing the two ring boxes out of his inner breast pocket.

Darryl waved a hand in front of him, indicating he couldn’t speak, but gently took the ring boxes from Nathaniel, handling them as if they were delicate crystal that could shatter at the slightest jostle.

Moments later, a sea-breeze blue Prius pulled into a parking space alongside the huddled group. A middle-aged woman with dark, wavy hair opened the driver’s side door. “You must be the couple who bribed me to come here on my day off,” she said, with a touch of playful snark. 

“Yes, we spoke on the phone. I’m Nathaniel and this is my fiancée, Rebecca.” 

The woman grabbed a black binder from her passenger seat and then slammed the door shut. “Nice to meet you,” she said, giving them both a firm handshake. Addressing the whole entourage, she said, “Hi, my name is Patricia Mendoza. I’m a Deputy Commissioner of Civil Marriages, which basically means I’m employed by LA county to perform ceremonies. Normally I only do this on Fridays, but I’m making an exception, as requested by Judge Chen. So don’t tell your friends about this, ok? As long as I make it to my knitting club at three, I’ll be a happy camper. Everyone got it?”

They all nodded.

“All right, let’s get this show on the road,” she said with enthusiasm, producing a key to the building out of her purse.

Inside, Patricia led them past the reception area, through a set of glass doors remarking, “You’re skipping the line today,” over her shoulder. The room for ceremonies was as bland as they come - beige walls and old, worn carpet with a hideous geometric design. A wooden podium stood at the front of the room with two rows of flimsy chairs staged a few feet away.

For a moment Nathaniel bristled at the appearance of the room, an impulse inside him telling him it was undeniably _not good enough_ for the two of them. But, when he looked to Rebecca to express his distaste, she was beaming with joy, the flowers setting off her hopeful eyes in a wild blue. It instantly reminded him what truly mattered about the day. And it certainly wasn’t the carpet.

Patricia beelined to the podium, setting down her binder and opening it, suddenly all business. “Here’s what we need to make this happen. Two rings. One marriage license. Two people who aren’t related by blood.”

Nathaniel handed a manila envelope to Patricia and she pulled out the license, examining it for a moment and then tucking it under her binder.

“Got the rings right here,” Darryl said, with excitement and pride, patting his suit jacket pocket.

“Great, then we’re ready. You two can stand here,” she indicated directly in front of the podium, “and the rest of you...do whatever you want.”

Paula dutifully stood behind Rebecca, while White Josh did the same for Nathaniel, releasing Emaline to scamper over to Darryl. Darryl scooped her up and deposited her into the chair beside him.

“Are we all settled now?” Patricia said, with a joking lilt. “Good. You two can join hands, if you wish.”

Rebecca turned and handed her bouquet of hydrangeas to Paula and then took Nathaniel’s hands, holding them tight. In a soft breath, she whispered, “Oh my god.” 

Patricia read from her text, “We are gathered, here in the presence of these witnesses, for the purpose of uniting in matrimony Nathaniel Plimpton and Rebecca Bunch. The contract of marriage is most solemn and not to be entered into lightly, but thoughtfully and seriously, and with a deep realization of its obligations and responsibilities.” 

Rebecca breathed deeply and held eye contact with Nathaniel as Patricia spoke. Rebecca’s whole expression exuded a soft vulnerability, a nakedness in her love for him, and he could already feel a lump beginning to form in his throat. The last thing he wanted was to cry in front of this stranger so he held it in the best he could. 

“Nathaniel, do you take Rebecca...”

“Wait,” Rebecca said when she heard the words, breaking her gaze with Nathaniel. “This is going too fast. Can I say something? Before we get to that part?”

“This is the standard ceremony,” Patricia said, a bit taken aback. “But, since I don’t have a line out the door today, go ahead. Like I said, as long as I’m on time for knitting club, I don’t care what you say.”

Rebecca gripped both his hands tighter, pulling him a step closer. “Nathaniel, before I met you, I thought love was this magical fairy tale, this elusive, mystical thing that would solve all my problems if I could find it and hold onto it. I thought of love as an ending. A happily ever after. Fade to black.”

Nathaniel squinted and tilted his head to the side, wondering whether he should be offended. 

“But being with you, and, well, undergoing extensive therapy and self-reflection, taught me what _real_ love is. That euphoric feeling when you first fall in love is really just the beginning. Real love is the crying and the laughing. It’s the fighting and making up. It’s understanding each other and sticking by each other, even when it’s hard.”

Nathaniel looked up at the ceiling, the tears imminent, though he tried to stave them off. 

“Love is a choice you make every day. It’s not just something you feel, it’s something you do,” she said, her voice cracking on the last word, so full of heartfelt affection.

She squeezed both hands and he refocused on her, several tears finally breaking free. “And love is knowing this is the wedding I needed, even when I didn’t know myself.”

Nathaniel scrubbed his hand over his face, giving up and letting the tears fall. In a low, choked voice, he said, “Love is kicking my parents out of our engagement party.” 

“What?”

“I saw them through the window,” he explained with a shrug.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Rebecca expelled a long breath and glanced around, as if suddenly remembering there were other people in the room. “Ok, that’s all I want to say. Back to you, Patricia.”

Patricia smiled a knowing smile, the smile of a person who had hundreds of ceremonies under her belt. “Alright, let’s try this again. Nathaniel, do you take Rebecca to be your lawfully-wedded spouse?”

“I do.”

“Rebecca, do you take Nathaniel to be your lawfully-wedded spouse?”

“I do,” she said with conviction.

“Do you each promise to love and comfort one another, to honor and keep one another, in sickness and in health, in prosperity and adversity, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to one another as long as you both shall live?”

“Yes,” they each said, their voices overlapping.

Patricia looked to Darryl. “Rings?”

Darryl shot up from his seat and fumbled with the boxes, removing them from his pocket. He opened the box with Rebecca’s ring and handed it to Nathaniel.

Patricia continued, “Nathaniel, please place the ring on her left ring finger and repeat after me. Rebecca, with this ring, I thee wed.”

With trembling hands, he slid the ring onto her finger and said, “Rebecca, with this ring, I thee wed.”

“Rebecca, please do the same and repeat after me. Nathaniel, with this ring, I thee wed.”

Rebecca took Nathaniel’s ring from Darryl and slipped it on his finger, saying, “Nathaniel, with this ring, I thee wed.”

They say life is the art of drawing without an eraser.

“By the virtue of the authority vested in me, as the Deputy Commissioner of Civil Marriages, I now pronounce you married under the laws of the state of California. You may kiss.”

Rebecca broke into a huge grin and threw her arms around his shoulders. He met her in the middle, smashing their lips together with unbridled passion and enthusiasm. Paula and Darryl immediately started to clap and cheer. Emaline leapt out of her seat, absorbing everyone’s excitement, and began jumping up and down. As they kissed, Nathaniel grabbed at her lower back, hoisting her up to his level and she bent at the knees so her feet kicked out behind her. They kissed for longer than appropriate for the occasion, but he didn’t care, as he reveled in the feeling of her smile against his lips, the taste of salt from their tears, the loving tug of her arms around his neck.

When he finally lowered to back to the floor and they separated, Paula was already busy signing the marriage certificate as their witness. White Josh gave Nathaniel a congratulatory pat on the back and Darryl gave Rebecca a suffocating hug.

“So what now?” Paula asked as Patricia packed up her things to close up.

“We have to celebrate! Show these off,” Rebecca exclaimed, holding up her left hand. “Let’s go to Home Base. I’m sure Heather will let us crash the joint.”

“You want to go to Home Base today? Dressed like this?” Nathaniel asked, incredulous.

“This is my wedding day. I can do whatever I want. And everyone needs to see this dress. Can’t let it go to waste.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

“Let’s all meet there in an hour,” Rebecca said, the item closed to any further discussion.

After they bid Patricia farewell and thanked her for her time, Rebecca and Nathaniel sat in the car together, catching their breath, easing off the rush of adrenaline. 

“Wow,” he said, holding his left hand out to admire the ring.

“I love that on you,” she said.

“It feels weird, but I like it.” He clasped her left hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Oh, can I look at the engraving?”

He released her hand, “Of course. Do it.”

Rebecca pulled the ring off her finger and squinted to read the inside.

_You are my sunshine._

“Awww, that’s so sweet,” she cooed. “Now I feel kinda bad about what I wrote.”

Nathaniel mimicked her, sliding off the ring to look at the inner band.

_Shackled to one person for eternity._

“Ha!” he guffawed. “I guess I should have seen that coming.”

*****

“Wow, seems crowded for a Sunday,” Nathaniel observed as he shifted the car into park in the Home Base parking lot. “You sure _this_ is where you want to be today?” 

“Come on, it’s going to be fun!” she insisted, apparently unfazed by the thought of crashing a bar in a wedding dress. She grabbed his hand with urgency and tugged him toward the door, her eyes sparkling, and he couldn’t be more in love with her if he tried. 

Inside, the lights were dimmed, save for the natural light streaming in through the windows, and it was eerily quiet, not a soul in sight. 

Nathaniel, confused, stammered, “Uh, wha, where is…?”

Suddenly the fluorescent lights flicked on and shouts of “SURPRISE!!!” rang out from every corner of the bar, in dozens of separate voices. Their friends popped out of every available hiding place - from behind the bar, from underneath booths, bursting out the doors of the stockroom.

Nathaniel jumped at the ruckus of sound, releasing Rebecca’s hand and staggering backward a few steps. A multitude of cardinal red and white balloons floated, cloud-like, around the room and a huge banner hung above the bar, announcing: HAPPY BIRTHDAY! A chalkboard behind the bar showcased “The Nathaniel” cocktail, an underwhelming offering of scotch on the rocks. From the amount of guests, it became clear Rebecca had invited anyone and everyone she could think of. In addition to the _B &P_ team’s families, Heather and Hector, Valencia and Camila, some of the old Whitefeather crew, and even Chris and Liz were in attendance. 

Rebecca raised her shoulders sheepishly and bit down on her bottom lip in mock innocence. “Happy birthday,” she said, raising both her hands in a timid _ta-da_ motion. 

Before he could properly react, the room dropped silent, even more quiet than when they entered the bar, everyone staring, their eyes wide, their mouths slack-jawed, at their attire.

“Oh about this,” Rebecca said, addressing the crowd, pulling the skirt of her dress out to the side. “We’re, um, we’re married,” she said, wrapping her arm around Nathaniel’s waist. 

After a beat, the silence was pierced by Emaline shrieking, “Yay!!!” from a corner booth while she clapped her hands wildly. The tension broken, Emaline’s sweet laughter became contagious, spreading through the crowd until everyone was applauding and laughing in concert.

Nathaniel secured one of his arms around Rebecca’s shoulders and she leaned in to him and whispered, “Are you mad?” 

He shook his head and held up a hand to get everyone to stop the commotion. “Thank you for coming,” he said, raising his voice for everyone to hear. “This is quite a surprise, uh, for both of us, I guess. Despite the fact that I specifically told Rebecca _not_ to make my birthday a big deal, I am actually really glad you could all be here today.” 

Rebecca squeezed him around his waist and yelled, “So let’s party!” 

Everyone hooted, hollered, and held up their glasses, save for Valencia who marched up to them with her arms crossed. In a stage whisper, she said to Rebecca, “You can’t just turn this party into a wedding reception. We only have two bottles of champagne.”

“How about _Congratulations, Rebecca_?”

“Sorry. Congratulations. But you think you could have given me a heads up?”

“It’s my fault,” Nathaniel jumped in. “I sprang this on her. Be mad at me.”

Valencia rolled her eyes at his heroic gesture. “Whatever, we’ll make it work,” she sighed and turned on her heels to join Heather behind the bar.

Nathaniel felt a pull at his pant leg from an overstimulated Emaline, who raised her arms to him and screamed “Hi! Nat! Hi!” from the ground.

Darryl stumbled behind her, muttering apologies. “I’m so sorry. I can’t take my eyes off her for even a second!” 

“It’s ok,” Nathaniel said and picked her up from the ground. 

Emaline pointed her finger and booped Rebecca on the nose. “Becca, I put on my dress,” she stated with pride, pulling out the poofy skirt of her dress the way Rebecca did moments earlier.

“Yes, yes you did,” Rebecca chuckled. “Thanks for helping us today, kiddo.”

Emaline turned to Nathaniel and put her hand on his cheek, her eyes full of concern. “You cried.”

Nathaniel feigned indignation. “What?! I didn’t cry! I don’t cry, you know that,” he joked and poked her side, causing her to giggle. 

“I saw you!” she squealed in outrage.

“I cried because I love Aunt Becca very much,” he said and winked at Rebecca. 

“Wh-wh-when are you gonna come play ball?” Emaline asked, already on to the next topic, fingering Nathaniel’s black bowtie.

“Soon. Remember, you need to take care of it for me because Aunt Becca says no more ball in the office. Got it?” He poked a finger in the center of her chest for emphasis, and she smiled and nodded as if they shared a supremely juicy secret. 

“Alright Em, let’s let them enjoy the party,” Darryl said, scooping Emaline up under her armpits and carrying her away.

Rebecca and Nathaniel proceeded to be bombarded with well wishes from their stunned guests. 

“I didn’t know this party would be a black tie affair,” Chris joked as he shook Nathaniel’s hand. “Congratulations. I’m sure glad I decided to make the drive down!” 

“And I see you took a page out of our playbook,” Liz added, patting him affectionately on the arm.

“Yea, thanks for that idea, by the way. It’s certainly not the way I ever imagined this day would go. But it’s better this way, actually, I think,” he said, wistful, watching Rebecca make animated small talk with Tim and Maya. 

“Nathaniel!” Valencia called and signaled for him to come over to the bar.

Nathaniel excused himself from the conversation and approached with bar with mild annoyance. “What? Are you going to yell at me about something else?” 

“No,” she said, much more subdued than before. “I’m embracing this new angle. Gives me a challenge. I was thinking...how about a first dance with your new bride? I have a dozen finely-curated wedding playlists, of course. But did the two of you already choose a song for your first dance?

“Uh…no? I guess we didn’t.”

Valencia scrolled through her phone and waved him away. “Don’t worry. I’ll pick something. I’ve done a ton of weddings. I got this. Give me two minutes.”

Nathaniel parted the crowd and found Rebecca still chatting it up with their former coworkers. “Hi, can I borrow my wife?” he asked, rhetorically, and gently pulled at her elbow, leading her away from everyone else.

The upbeat, pop music that had been playing in the background cut out, and a soft, piano interlude filled the air. Nathaniel took Rebecca’s hand in his and placed the other on the small of her back.

“What is this?”

“We’re having our first dance,” he murmured, pulling her close.

“Oh,” she giggled. 

As they swayed, the opening verse of _All of Me_ by John Legend began to play, and, as the partygoers noticed the two sharing a moment, stopped their own dancing and drinking to watch them. Normally, Nathaniel would detest the thought of a mob of people watching him in a moment like this, a moment of vulnerability, his emotions so close to the surface it burned. But, even so, he couldn’t help the warmth blooming in his chest from holding her in his arms, surrounded by an outpouring of support from every person who mattered in their lives. 

“I don’t think I need another wedding,” he said. “This is perfect.”

“Really? You’re ok with our wedding reception being at Home Base, which I believe you once called a cesspool of sticky hands and grease stains?”

He laughed at the memory. “I guess can make an exception.”

Rebecca trailed both her hands up to the base of his neck, so he settled his at her waist. Her tone turning serious, she said, “When my dad died it made me realize how quickly life can change. In the blink of an eye, it was like, poof, he was gone. So this morning, when you asked me to get married today, I realized I didn’t want to wait another year. Or two years. Life’s too short, you know?”

Oh, he knew. In his perfect world, he would have proposed to her years ago, back when he bought the engagement ring. Sure, it had been an impulse buy, but he knew back then that he wanted to marry her and that feeling only intensified each day that the ring stay hidden in his dresser drawer.

He kissed her forehead, lingering for a few seconds, then pressed his forehead to hers. As they swayed to the music, his thumbs traced the lace pattern of the dress over the small of her back.

“I guess we’re just an old, married couple now. Officially,” she said. “The spark is gone, isn’t it?” 

“Oh, sunshine, it’s only gonna get sexier from here,” he whispered. 

“Is that so?”

“How do you feel about antiquing?”

“Very sexy,” she murmured.

“We could pick up a fifty-year-old armoire. Maybe a tasteful ottoman.”

“Hmmm, go on.”

“Once we buy a house, we’re going to need weekly trips to Home Depot. For all my husbandly home projects, of course. And we can stop at Costco on the way back.”

She rubbed her fingers through the small hairs at the base of his neck. “So hot,” she breathed.

“Sex only on birthdays and our anniversary, which, unfortunately for me, are the same day.”

“Thank god,” she giggled, “I don’t know if I could handle any more with all these activities.”

When the song reached its final measures, the couple kissed, inciting cheers from the onlookers. That night, instead of cake, they ate gluten-free cupcakes and dessert tapas. Instead of a DJ or a live band, they used Valencia’s iPhone. Instead of decorative flowers, they had balloons and banners. Paula and White Josh graciously gave impromptu toasts, but, instead of champagne, their guests raised their glasses of beer and wine and scotch. 

It was all wrong, by traditional standards. Their parents, no doubt, would have been horrified. 

He had never felt happier in his life.

*****

Rebecca and Nathaniel took exactly one vacation day before returning to work. They spent half the day in bed, imprinting their vows into each other’s skin, every kiss laden with the promise of this new chapter of their lives. Rebecca made a joke about becoming _one flesh_ and Nathaniel replied that he was fairly certain their salacious activities were not exactly what _The Bible_ intended. 

The other half of the day, however, was spent finishing up a project long in the works, a project that would change the future of _Bunch & Plimpton & Associates_ forever. New beginnings was the mood of the day, and Rebecca couldn’t wait one more minute to get back to work. So, Tuesday morning, Rebecca and Nathaniel were both back in the office, like unstoppable worker bees, as if the most significant event of their lives to-date hadn’t happened just a few days prior. When pressed, they insisted they would plan a proper honeymoon sometime in the future, date yet-to-be-determined. (Everyone was skeptical of this claim, but didn’t express their doubts aloud.) 

After the daily huddle, Paula found the two in Nathaniel’s office, Rebecca peering over his shoulder, both pouring over a document with grave seriousness and speaking to each other in hushed tones. In one hand Rebecca clutched a takeaway coffee cup, her deep red nails a stark contrast to the white background, with _Mrs._ scribbled in black Sharpie on the side. 

“Hey, sorry to interrupt. I saw this Google Cal invite pop up yesterday,” Paula said, holding up her phone. “If you’re too busy, we can reschedule. After all, you just got back after your big day.”

Rebecca and Nathaniel looked up from the paperwork in unison. “No, Paula, we want to meet. Let’s go in the conference room,” Rebecca said, giving Nathaniel a nod and then ushering her toward the door.

In the conference room, Paula and Rebecca sat down across from each other and Nathaniel trailed a few paces behind, a stack of paperwork under his arm. He sat next to Rebecca, the two presenting a united front, and he placed the documents down between them. 

Nathaniel folded his fingers together neatly on the table top in front of him with an air of formality. He cleared his throat and said, “So, Paula, we want to discuss something with you.”

“Oh god, is the firm going under? Are you firing me? Fire George first, he barely does anything!” 

“Paula,” Rebecca said, reaching across the table to briefly squeeze her hand, “no one is getting fired. You can relax.” 

“As I was saying,” Nathaniel continued, “Paula, you are the firm’s best lawyer.” He paused and then added, “Well, besides the two of us, of course.” He smiled fondly and gestured between he and Rebecca.

“So I’m better than Darryl and George? Got it. I’m thrilled,” Paula said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Rebecca jumped in, “What we’re trying to say is that we appreciate all the hard work you’ve done for the firm. We wouldn’t be where we are without you and we want to recognize that.”

Paula’s eyes widened. “Oh! I’m getting a raise?”

Rebecca winced. “Well, no, not a raise. We’re not exactly rolling in it yet.” She glanced over at Nathaniel, excitement in her eyes, and then said, “We want to make you a partner.”

Paula sat in stunned silence, her mouth open in shock.

When she said nothing for several seconds, Rebecca nudged Nathaniel with her elbow and said, “Tell her about the agreement.”

“Right,” Nathaniel said, “We know you may not have the funds to invest at this point, so we want to dilute our own shares and _give you_ the first five percent. If the firm becomes more successful in the future and you want to invest more, we’ll allow you to buy in up to ten percent total equity stake.”

Paula shook her head, still disbelieving. “Are you serious? Is this real?”

Nathaniel put his hand on top of the stack of papers. “These are all the documents. Read it over and let us know.”

Rebecca grinned ear-to-ear. “Or you can just tell us now.”

“Of - of course! Yes! Oh my god, I don’t know what to say,” Paula’s voice trembled with emotion. “I mean, this is my dream. This is everything I ever wanted.”

Rebecca bolted out of her chair and ran over to the other side of the table, hugging Paula, who was still affixed to her chair. “You deserve this,” she whispered as she held her tight. 

They say love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.

The sound of Darryl sighing turned their attention to the doorway, where he stood just outside the conference room, ringing his hands. Nathaniel waved him in and hollered for George so the whole team could celebrate together. 

*****

“Guess we have to order a new sign,” Rebecca said when she sauntered into Nathaniel’s office later that afternoon. 

“Hmmm, yep,” Nathaniel agreed, not looking up from his laptop. 

“Bunch, Plimpton, & Proctor? Does that sound good to you?”

Nathaniel stopped typing, hesitating a moment. “Uh, yea, of course. I know you’ll never give up the top spot,” he said with a smirk. 

When she didn’t respond, Nathaniel finally tore his eyes away from the screen to look at her. Rebecca had both her hands concealed behind her back and a mischievous smile playing at her lips.

“What? What are you hiding behind your back?”

“Between the wedding, the after party, and what we did for Paula, I think I like surprises now.”

“Oh really?” He leaned back in his chair, slightly apprehensive about what on earth she had in store for him now, yet utterly enchanted by her twinkling smile and playful energy.

“Yes, really. My dear husband, how does this strike you?” Rebecca whipped one of her arms out from behind her back and placed a wooden name plate on his desk with a flourish.

_Rebecca Bunch-Plimpton_

Wow. A surprise, indeed.

If he hadn’t already been sitting, he would have needed to sit down, because this was the absolute last thing he was expecting today. He had let the name issue drop months ago, after the engagement party, assuming her silence on the subject meant she decided to keep her name. It was far from a dealbreaker for him, so he accepted her decision with just a small tinge of disappointment.

“Um, sorry, I’m a little shocked,” he finally said.

Rebecca held up her pointer finger. “But wait, there’s more!” She pulled her other arm out from behind her back to reveal a second name plate.

_Nathaniel Bunch-Plimpton_

Oh. 

All in one breath, Rebecca said, “Before you say anything, I know it’s not traditional, and it’s not what you originally wanted. I will not be mad if you say no. But, I thought, this way, we have the same last name and neither of us have to give up our names. And plus, we could probably get away with not changing the whole _Bunch and Plimpton_ part of the firm name.” 

Nathaniel picked up the nameplate and stared at it, running his fingers over the smooth grooves cut into the wood. 

What did _Nathaniel Plimpton III_ mean to him anyway? He thought of his father, his grandfather. Their cold, blue eyes. Their bone-chilling, commanding voices. Their unforgiving, relentless drive to succeed at all costs. The photo of the three of them, the one that used to hang in the entryway of the old Whitefeather office, sent a shiver through his body every time he saw it. He loathed the image. Was that the legacy he wanted to carry on?

When Darryl joined the new firm, about a year prior, the entire team took a group photo, which now hung proudly in the entryway of their tiny office, just underneath the _Bunch & Plimpton & Associates_ sign. From left to right, Nathaniel and Rebecca, with his hand resting warmly on her shoulder, Paula, George, and Darryl, holding Emaline, who was only eighteen months old at the time.

What a juxtaposition.

His entire life now was different from anything he could have imagined when he first met Rebecca. Falling in love? Going to therapy? Starting his own firm? Letting a child into his office? Marriage? Giving away shares of the firm? All would have been wildly preposterous ideas to the person he was years ago. And the woman standing in front of him was the unintentional catalyst for all of it.

He set the nameplate down on the desk and the sunlight from the window behind him bounced off the object, illuminating it in soft yellow.

_Nathaniel Bunch-Plimpton_

They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. 

Rebecca threaded her fingers together under her chin in a prayer-like gesture. “Oh no, you hate it. Do you hate it? Are you offended? Please say something.”

He soothed her worried eyes with a soft, reassuring smile. “I love it,” he whispered.

“Really? Are you sure? I mean, what about the whole _the third_ thing?” she asked, using air quotes for the suffix. 

Nathaniel stood from behind his desk and walked toward her. “Maybe I don’t want to be _the third_ anymore. Maybe I want to be...more than that.” He cupped one of her cheeks with his palm and kissed her. “I want to do this. I’m sure.”

She trailed her hands up his chest and rose on her tiptoes to give him a kiss back.

“Thank you for thinking of it, Mrs. Bunch-Plimpton,” he murmured, rubbing his nose against hers.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Bunch-Plimpton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Email: heartbashfic@gmail.com
> 
> Art credit to: @pictureofsoph1sticatedgrace


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